


Feral

by Silvergryphon06



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beth Greene Lives, Coda fix-it, F/M, I'll wait for Beth, Post-Episode: s05e08 Coda, Rated M for language and future chapters, Slow Burn, bethyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 100
Words: 204,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvergryphon06/pseuds/Silvergryphon06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That gunshot left her with more than one scar. Wounded and wary, Beth looks at the world with new eyes. The girl she was and the woman she's become are at odds. Her instincts are telling her a lot of things. What they're saying the loudest is that Daryl is the only one who can understand her pain. And that he might be the only thing that can help her heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been floating in my head for the last couple of days and refuses to leave me alone. I've been wanting to write a Bethyl fic for a while. I love them together. And finally getting my courage up to write them, here it is! I hope you all enjoy. :)
> 
> Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

She didn't like the scent in the air here. It was...too clean.

It reminded her of places she'd been avoiding, places she didn't dare enter. Because that's where  _they'd_ made her wrong.

She crouched next to a young pine, letting her fingers curl slightly against the bark, her only movement save for the flickering of her eyes back and forth - to the wall just beyond the trees, barely visible through the thick morning fog, to the woodline on the far left of the field in front of it, back again, as steady as a clock ticking.

Rain was a promise in the sky. She could taste it, feel it in her bones.

Rustling came from behind her and she tensed, her free hand inching to the large knife that hung from her belt. Then a breath was exhaled and she slowly relaxed.

"You don't like it, do ya?" The voice was a soft murmur, hardly more than a whisper. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head, her long blonde hair catching gently on her threadbare sweater. "I don't either."

She glanced at her companion, tracing the contour of his face with her gaze. He looked tired, more tired than she probably did, but that was likely because you wouldn't have been able to tell the dark circles under her eyes from the rest of the grime that coated her skin. And that would have suited her just fine; she'd have scrubbed more dirt on if she could. Earth was good; it masked smell and sight, softened sounds.

The longer she looked at that wall, the more convinced she was that there wasn't enough earth behind it to make it safe. The faint noises that drifted over it sounded odd to her, and it only took her a moment to figure out that the reason for that was because she hadn't heard them in so long.

Laughing. Calling.

_Singing._

Cornflower blue eyes narrowed.

Those were deadly sounds, carelessly tossed into the wind as if there would be no consequences. As if no one would notice them.

As if no one would  _hunt_ them.

Her hand drifted back down to her knife, but large fingers wrapping around hers stopped the motion. She looked over, her expression blank. Her companion shook his head silently.

_Don't do it. It's wrong._

It seemed like he was constantly conveying that to her, and while it was frustrating, she was grateful for it. She needed that reminder.

She just wished that it would stick.

Her hand moved back up to rest on top of her thigh, her palm skating over bare skin where her jeans had ripped. She tried not to focus too hard on the singing. It made her head hurt. Absently, she lifted her hand further, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the scar high on her forehead. It twinged beneath the contact so she dropped her fingers.

He noticed. He always noticed. The man was perhaps the most observant she'd ever met.

Well, aside from  _him_.

_She could feel his gaze on the back of her head, intense, focused as she crept forward. The bow was really too heavy for her. She felt like at any moment she was going to drop it, spooking whatever it was they were tracking. When she hesitated, brow furrowing as she stared at the odd pattern on the ground, his hands slid up her arms to steady them._

" _If ya keep worryin' about it, yer gonna drop it," he muttered. "Take a breath. Jus' focus on the tracks."_

_She turned to look at him, tilting her head back to meet his eyes questioningly. "How'd you know?"_

_He snorted at her, dark blue irises glinting. "You ain't as slick as you think you are." He ticked his chin forward. "C'mon. Whatcha see?"_

A flash of pain abruptly ended the memory and she winced. But the words echoed in her head like a heartbeat, compelling her to mentally catalogue what she could make out in the weak sunlight.

The wall was covered in tin and reinforced with thick-looking rectangular steel tubing. Rusting, but still solid and high. Any attempt to penetrate it would reverberate like a gunshot. Couldn't climb it either. No watches posted, no visible trails where someone had been walking the perimeter, so whoever was in there, they felt right snug.

Sheep safely tucked away in their pen.

Like  _that_ place. The one she had no name for - didn't want to have a name for. But she remembered it. Remembered the dark, glistening hallways and the constant prickle on the back of her neck. Remembered the deafening crack and the stinging smell of copper and gunpowder. Remembered the agonizing pitch that she couldn't crawl out of, how it suffocated, how it closed in around her until her hands were bleeding from pounding and scratching at the-

A touch on her elbow had her head snapping to the right.

"Get outta your head." A finger was raised crookedly, pointing even further down the wall. "We got company."

Simultaneously, they dropped down on the dead pine needles. She breathed gently through her nose, her palms flat against the ground as she angled her head to watch a darkly clad figure easily slip over from the other side of the wall, hover on top of it for a second, and finally drop down. She watched them shift about a bit, as if looking around before starting to walk in their direction.

And her breath caught.

Because she knew that walk, a rangy kind of loping with one arm held up, holding onto something and the other swinging freely, the hand brushing against a knife she knew was kept on their belt. On the opposite side of where she kept hers. She couldn't have said why or how or even what made it important that she knew, but the only thing that mattered was that it was, and that she did.

Answers…

Did recognizing it mean that she'd found some answers?

She wasn't sure. Her head was mostly a jumbled mess, half-recalled memories that felt more like dreams, and things that she understood without knowing how. Names, places, dates, they were out of her reach, even though she comprehended that they were just as important. She just couldn't have said why. And that mystified her, because they shouldn't be.

What good would knowing who she'd been before...before the man beside her had found her...what was the point of it? The question always made her chest tighten in a weird way. Perhaps because, on some level, she knew that it was important to the person she  _had_ been that she figure that out. Who she might still be, under all of it. Searching for that...answer, though, was secondary. Surviving, watching his back while he hunted for whatever it was he was looking for...those things were her primary focus. Who she was now made those things doable.

After all, she couldn't say that the person she was before was the reason she had ended up here to start with. And if that was the case, she thought she'd prefer to leave that past in shadow, and only see glimmers every now and again.

But seeing that stride, realizing that it was familiar...well, she didn't know what to think about that.

So she stayed hidden, listening to her instincts as whoever it was passed them by. They were noiseless, their steps easy, but measured.

She squinted after them, daring to turn her head just enough to track their movement. She caught sight of long, lanky brown hair and a lean build before they vanished into the trees across the field. Reflexively, she started to push up, move after them, but stopped herself at the last minute. Her head turned again, back towards her companion, canting slightly as if in question. He simply nodded to her, one quick jerk of his head. See what you can, don't engage unless you're cornered. That's what the motion told her. It's what he always told her. She returned the gesture shortly.

Then she was gone, up and slipping between the trees. She kept one hand on the hilt of her knife as she moved, her eyes roving between the ground and her surroundings. Whoever they were, they were good. Their tracks were barely noticeable. They kept to the grass, kept off of bare dirt or dry leaves. But the signs were there.

Silently, she followed them deeper into the woods, mindful of her back. The trail seemed aimless at first, until she came across deer scat. Her quarry had seen it too, seen the split hoof impression in the soft soil and the roughly carved ruts in the trees. Buck, she noted. From the depth of the tracks, she hazarded to guess that it was a nice sized one too.

Hunter.

Feeling an anticipatory flutter in her belly., she licked her lips. When she started again, it was to move upwind, picking her way through the underbrush to make as little noise as possible.

She wasn't careful enough. Or maybe she was just out of her depth. Whichever it was, the tracks disappeared at the base of an old oak, and that brought her up short. There was an itch on the back of her neck and she immediately drew her knife, her fingers curling around the worn handle. Pressing her back to the tree, she edged around its side, like a child peeking around the corner. The buck was dead in a small clearing, a bolt sticking out just behind its front leg. Clean shot. But it's killer was no where in sight.

That was when she heard the footstep.

She froze.

"Drop it." The command was spoken gruffly, the voice deep and a little hoarse, as if it hadn't been used in a while. Low, barely leashed, warning that there'd be no hesitation if she didn't obey.

So she did as she was told, dropping her arms and letting the knife fall to the ground. Tension was tight in her shoulders. She waited, letting it coil down her spine into the muscles of her legs.

"Turn around."

She paused for the span of a heartbeat. Only the soft click at her back prompted her to follow the order. She turned slowly, keeping her hands loose at her sides. She heard a sharp intake of breath before she raised her eyes from the ground.

Her pulse started to pound and she broke into a cold sweat.

She  _knew_ those eyes, sharp and blue like ice, blown wide as they stared at her from over the top of a crossbow that she'd held in her own hands. She knew the arms that wielded it now and how strong they were, lifting her off her feet on more than one occasion, when she wasn't able to move quick enough for his liking. She knew the rough texture of the fingers that were curled around the trigger, because they'd slid across hers in a graveyard that flickered at the edge of her consciousness. She knew the tight expression of disbelief that crossed features she'd have been able to pick out anywhere, because he'd worn it when she'd screamed at him in front of a shack that reeked of moonshine and stale cigarettes.

She  _knew_ him.

Daryl.

The name flashed in her mind so fast she hardly caught it. Her thoughts jumbled together, getting tangled up in a rush of emotion and memory that nearly made her stumble. Her eyes were stinging and she had no idea why. It hurt. Suddenly everything just hurt.

And it got worse when he lowered his bow and mumbled one word. One word that sent her eyes rolling back into her head and made her legs buckle out from beneath her. A word that was laced with so many things that it didn't make sense that only one could hold them all. A word she hadn't thought she'd ever hear again, not even inside her own head, because she hadn't  _remembered_ it until he said it. And when she did, the dark that she'd spent so long running from swallowed her whole.

" _Beth._ "


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl barely caught her as she went down, letting out a grunt as he dropped his crossbow and wrapped his arm tightly around her tiny frame. His heart was thundering against his ribs as his eyes flickered over her face. He'd come to expect a shit load of things out here, but not her.

_Beth._

She was alive.

She was fucking _alive_.

It was damn near more than he could believe. He'd just needed some space. Deanna had never really given him one of them jobs everyone prized so much, so he'd fallen back to doing what he always had - hunting, providing. Some days were better than others, and at least out here he could take a breath. Or he'd started to learn how to again, before today.

Without thinking, he pushed some of the pale blonde strands from her face as he eased her down to the ground. She'd been scrawny before, but now she was damn near skeletal. Her clothes hung off her like robes, her once form-fitting jeans now baggy, the tightly cinched belt at her waist the only thing holding them up. Her cheeks were gaunt, sharp where they'd been sweetly rounded. Her hair hung in thick knotted ropes, bits of debris, dirt, and what looked like dried blood clinging to it. Her features were coated in dust and dirt, but even so, her scars stood out a blistering pink, stark against her fair skin, but not ugly. He didn't think she could ever be ugly. Girl had too much light inside.

No, he corrected himself, laying her back before shrugging off his coat to prop beneath her head. Whatever part of her that had been a girl, she burned away that night at the shack. Even if she was a little thing, all hair and blue eyes and coltish legs, she'd long since left girlhood behind.

His eyes traced her features again as he crouched down next to her, lingering on the roughly round wound near her hairline. He couldn't help it, he reached out and touched the pad of his thumb gently to the jagged edge of it. How the hell had she survived that? How the hell had she managed to get all the way up here from that goddamned hospital?

Better question was how no one had thought to check her pulse or her breathing. How the fuck had they missed it? How had _he_ missed it?

Daryl shook his head roughly. Didn't matter right now.

He glanced down at the knife she'd dropped. He reached for it, hefting it up. It was bigger than the one she'd carried before, heavier. He probably should have been surprised she could even wield the damn thing, much less pick it up, but he wasn't.

_I can take care of myself!_

The words she'd tossed at him made him grimace as he slid it back into place on her belt. How many times had he heard her say that in his head since they'd left Atlanta? How many times had he relieved each and every moment leading up to that hospital hallway? He couldn't say. It was like he'd been living in rewind for months. Every word, every touch, every look, he relived again and again in his head and everything always seemed to lead him back there, to _that_ moment. His other hand unconsciously drifted to the brown sheath at his hip, his fingers rasping down the smooth leather.

_"I get it now," she said quietly. Deadly quiet._

_He'd never heard her use that tone before, but he'd heard it out of other people. It made the hair on his arms stand up. He understood what that meant a fraction of a second too late._

_Time slowed down. A shot went off like a cannon in the small space and her head jerked back, crimson staining the back of her head._

_He went cold. Pulled the pistol out of his waistband before the thought had even crossed his mind. Didn't stop to think, didn't stop to look. He couldn't.  
_

A ragged groan interrupted his thoughts.

Forcing himself to withdraw his hand and grabbed his crossbow. Already loaded, he just twisted his torso and fired, the bolt sinking into the walker's skull with a dull thud. Keeping the weapon next to him, he hunkered back down next to her with a low growl, staring at the corpse with narrowed eyes.

He'd just found her. Weren't no _fucking_ way anything was getting at her, not again.

Screw yer head on straight, Darlina, Merle echoed in the back of his mind. He could almost hear the spit that followed. Fuckin' pussy, losin' yer head over a piece of tail. Them claimers had ya pegged right.

Daryl scowled, but ignored his brother's voice.

Every couple of seconds, he'd glance between the trees and her, checking to see that she was still there, that her chest still rose and fell. The sensation that curled in his belly every time his gaze landed on her was hard to figure out. He didn't dwell on it much. Couldn't. He was having a hard enough time that she was actually there, and not some phantom out of his nightmares, come to punish him for leaving her.

Guilt gnawed at him hungrily. She wouldn't have left _him._ Even with a herd twice the size that had driven them from Atlanta with their tails between their legs, she'd have drug him with her. Even if she'd had to haul his ass over her thin shoulders. Too damn stubborn.

She made a soft sound next to him, stirred a little, and Daryl felt his stomach drop. He fought back the urge to touch her again, fought to keep still as her pale eyelashes fluttered. Groggily, her eyes drifted open with another quiet noise. She started to lift a hand to her head.

Daryl couldn't stop himself from calling to her softly, his voice low, and hoarser than he'd have liked. "Beth?"

She froze for about a second before every visible muscle in her body tightened and she was flipping over onto her knees, pushing herself up into a crouch and scrambling away from him. Her hair streaked forward, concealing her features, her weight balancing between one hand and the balls of her feet as the other shot for the knife at her waist. Her eyes were wide and dark, wild, confused as they tried to look everywhere at once. When they landed on him, she pulled her lips back in a snarl.

He didn't move, watching her watch him warily, his hands dangling over his thighs as he crouched opposite her. There was no immediate recognition and seeing that felt like someone had slammed a fist into his chest.

He tried again, more gruffly. "Beth?"

Something flickered in those blue irises, the tense lines in her face relaxing a fraction. He waited, keeping their gazes locked as he caught her hand relaxing away from her knife out of the corner of his eye.

The snarl faded as her brow furrowed. She stared at him, her eyes searching.

Slowly, she inched back towards him, never looking away from his face. Her boots slid over dead leaves and damp earth as she crept forward. Her eyes cleared fragmentally the closer she came, until he almost dared to believe he was looking at the same woman that'd asked him in all seriousness to train her with his bow. There was that same intent glint, but it was tempered now with what he perceived as thoughtfulness. He didn't try to coax her, or encourage her; just let her approach him at her own pace, even as he felt every muscle in his body tense as she did, his stomach clenching again.

When her knee brushed his, she stopped.

He couldn't read her expression and it unnerved him a little. She'd never been able to hide her thoughts before. It was always in her face what she was feeling. Even when she tried, her body language gave her away.

It did now, to some extent. She wasn't holding herself rigidly anymore. Her hands rested on her thighs as she shifted to kneel across from him. Her head was canted just a little to the side, making her hair fall back against her shoulder. She was studying him hard, as if trying to place him somewhere in her mind.

Then her right hand came up, and without hesitation, reached for his left. Continuing to watch his face, she threaded her fingers through his and he finally saw in her eyes what he'd been waiting for.

"Daryl."

Her voice was huskier than he remembered, throaty, as if she hadn't used it in a long time, but there was no uncertainty as she murmured his name. The breath shuddered out of him and his shoulders sagged. He dropped his eyes to their entwined hands, noting that her fingers were as darkly lined with dirt and grime as his own. Blisters and callouses that he didn't remember her having were plain and rough on her hands. It reminded him just how long she'd been out here...alone.

His throat went tight. Jesus fucking Christ, he shouldn't have left her alone.

"Beth," he said again, his voice raw, barely able to make it sound more than a croak, but this time it wasn't a question and she dipped her head once.

He wanted to ask a hundred different things. He wanted to crush her to him and make damn sure that she was real. Even with her smaller fingers wrapped around his, a small part of him wondered. He wanted to drag her back into the safe zone and lock her in a room so that she could never disappear on him again. And a larger part of his mind than he'd ever willingly admit wanted to keep her hand in his and take off into the woods, away from those tin-covered walls and the weird ass normalcy everyone behind them was trying to fit back into.

He wouldn't, and he knew that she wouldn't want him to, despite the lack of protests he suspected she'd have right then. There was something off about the way she acted. He didn't doubt it had to do with that bullet she'd taken to the brain, but until he knew exactly what was going on, it was all speculation.

The sound of a branch snapping behind him had Daryl whirling around, dropping her hand as he snatched his crossbow up. A man stood off in the trees, his hands folded over one another as he regarded them. His clothes were torn and shabby, a thick tan coat and baggy fatigues tucked into thick black boots that weren't completely laced up. A beard, bushy and coarse, covered the lower half of his face, the dark hair blending with the deep color of his skin. His eyes, though, were what held Daryl's attention. They glittered oddly, almost glassy, feverish, as he looked at him evenly.

His mouth split into a grin. "Think that's the first word she's said since I met her." He spoke in a rich, pleasant tenor. "She didn't right out kill ya, so that's a point in your favor."

Daryl didn't reply to him, angling his head to mutter, "Beth?"

He heard a rustling as she stood up behind him, catching sight of her blonde hair in his peripheral vision as she moved to step beside him. Her fingers curled around his bicep and he chanced looking away from the stranger to her. She nodded to him and he lowered his crossbow. When he did, Beth dropped her hand.

The man came closer, brushing a low hanging branch out of his way. "My name's Morgan. And I'm looking for Rick Grimes."

Daryl's look was sharp. "Why?" Rick'd mentioned a Morgan before, but there was no guarantee this was the same guy.

The man ignored the question, eyeing Daryl closely. "Seems like you know him too." When Daryl didn't confirm or deny it, Morgan's gaze slipped away and he added, "Take her inside. And tell Rick I want to see him."

Beth suddenly took a couple of steps forward with a frown, her mouth pressing into a line that Daryl knew all too well. It looked like Morgan had become familiar with it too, because he met her halfway and patted her shoulder.

"You need this. I don't," he said simply. "Not right now."

Daryl's eyes swept over her. She was tense again, but it wasn't in the same way. He could see the muscle in her jaw clench tight, then release as she jerked her head down in a short, sharp nod. The corner of his mouth quirked up. She wasn't happy, but she'd deal with it. It was something of a relief to see the familiar expression, even if it was one of disgruntlement. She was wasn't exactly the same, but she was still Beth. And as his gaze flickered between the two of them, he felt at odds. On the one hand, he was glad that she'd had someone to watch her back. But on the other, he knew it should have been him. Like before. Guilt churned in his belly again, but he stamped it down tight. Still wasn’t the fucking time.

Morgan moved his hand and without another word, turned on his heel and walked back into the trees. Daryl watched him until he was out of sight before swinging his crossbow across his back. Beth turned back to him, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth. He kept his thoughts to himself, his expression shuttered as he moved past her, brushing his arm against hers. He didn't know much about comforting someone or easing their mind. That was one of the things _she_ was good at. So that brief touch was all he could offer.

It seemed to settle her and that was enough. Her shoulders relaxed.

With a grunt, he picked up the back end of the deer, stooping so that he could drape it across his shoulders. It was bulky, but manageable. Good thing the gate wasn't that far, though. He tipped his head in the direction behind her.

"C'mon," he told her, adjusting his grip on the buck's legs. "Reckon there'll be some folks besides me that'll be glad t'see ya."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the kudos and comments! Holy cow! 0.0
> 
> I can't believe how many people have read this already. I hope you all continue to enjoy it! I know their reunion was kinda short, but I have something specific envisioned in the next couple of chapters, so bear with me! I'm hoping to keep updating on a daily basis, so stay tuned. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Her fingers drummed a rhythm against her thigh as they walked, her head twisting so that she could keep her eyes roving the woods. It wasn’t a long trek, but the feeling of being watched was prickling the back of her neck. Maybe it was knowing that Morgan was still out here.

Morgan…

He’d never said before and she’d never asked. Another name. That made three. She was sure of three now, including her own. There were others, she was sure of that, too, but these specific three were what she felt was important right then. As she kept pace with Daryl, she mouthed her own name to herself. Beth. Her nose wrinkled. It tasted strange in her mouth, like it didn’t quite fit with other things she knew. She tried again. Beth. No, it was still odd. Beth.

_Beth!_

The back of her head throbbed and she lifted a hand to rub at it gingerly. Daryl gave her a sidelong look, but she just slowly shook her head, her lips pressing together tightly. Alright, enough of that. There were plenty of things out here to get them killed, none of which needed any help.  

But the thoughts churning in her mind weren’t easy to put away. They crept into her head like foxes slinking around the hen house, pulling at her attention, making her want to stop and consider them. It didn’t help that they were closing in on the wall. That awful scent was slipping back into her nose, making her jittery. Her fingers sped up their tapping, her thumb stretching out to slid along the thick hilt of her knife. The closer they got, the more her instincts screamed at her to bolt in the opposite direction. Not safe. Those two words were like a mantra in her mind.

Her eyes darted over Daryl’s back with a deep frown. The way he’d called to her - it’d been so familiar. It’d tugged at fragments of memory she hadn’t realized that she possessed, pulled them together to give her another piece from before. They’d run together, hunted together, survived. She remembered that, or parts of it anyway.

_Moonshine burning her mouth as she swallowed it down, trying to not let it touch her tongue as he chuckled dryly at the face she made._

_Daryl grabbing her arm as they bolted through the trees, shoving her back and slamming his crossbow across a walker’s jaw._

_Tracking a rabbit’s path all day as he muttered lessons to her gruffly._

_“I’m not gonna leave you!”_

Her gaze fell to the tan sheath at his hip and she recognized it, absently running the pad of her thumb over the black one hanging at her belt. How had he gotten it? Had she given it to him? She couldn’t imagine him taking it. Which brought another question; how had they been separated? How had they even met? As soon as his name had occurred to her, it felt as though she’d always known him. Was that true?

She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t form on her tongue. And that confused her too, because she couldn’t understand why she wanted to ask. Why wasn’t important, was it? It hadn’t been, she didn’t think. Or had it? The questions were frustrating.

Beth tried to once again dismiss them as they approached a section of the wall. Daryl grunted as he dropped the deer to the ground and banged his fist against the thin metal. She stood just behind him, tipping her head back, listening. Those sounds from before were drifting over the top of the gate, distorted but clear enough. They seemed loud to her, completely out of place.

Squealing and unhurried, the solid gate started to roll open, revealing a second, slightly smaller one made of thick bars. The first one stopped with a shudder and a sharp clang. Two men stood behind it, assault rifles balanced in their hands. Beth looked them over and snorted. Their knuckles were white on the stocks and she could even see that one of them’s fingers were quivering slightly as he set them near the trigger.

Sheep playing at being intimidating. She could almost smell their anxiety.

Daryl glanced back towards her, the corner of his mouth quirking up, as if he knew what she was thinking.

“Brought dinner again?” one of them asked, taking a step towards the gate and Beth’s gaze narrowed on him.

Oh, this one thought he was something special. There was a glint in his dark eyes as he looked at Daryl. Resentment - she could feel it from where she stood at Daryl’s shoulder, like he had something to prove. Assumed dominance too. The way he stood, his arms bowed out and his legs braced wide, shoulders thrust back;  like a bullfrog making itself bigger and scarier than it actually was to whatever it thought was the threat.

And meanwhile the crane slipped behind it and swallowed the fool thing whole.

Daryl made a low, impatient sound in his throat as he held the deer by its back feet. He didn’t answer, just jerked his head towards the fence. “You wanna jaw or you wanna eat tonight?”

The man rolled his shoulders, as if he was trying to relax, but the tight set of his shoulders and the grip he had on that gun was telling Beth a different story. She paid no attention to what was actually being said, bracing her palms against her hips, the tip of her fingernail touching her knife.

“Didn’t see you come through earlier.”

Daryl didn’t miss a beat. “‘Cause I didn’t.”

“You know we got these walls up for a reason,” came the reply, languid, but carrying an undertone that had pricked Beth’s ears as he tapped the barrel of his rifle against the bars. “And a gate.” His smile was derisive. “Know what the difference between the two is?” He leaned forward and lowered his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Gate’s for walkin’ through. Wall’s to keep shit out.”

Or in, she thought to herself, letting her eyes shift to the left and right for a second. They snapped back when Daryl grunted, icy irises pinning the other man pointedly. “Ain’t workin’.”  

They stared at one another for a long moment. Beth stared at Daryl carefully, noting the lack of tension in Daryl’s stance. He wasn’t looking at a threat. She glanced at the other man. He was. His hand tightened on his gun, his index finger inching towards the trigger as the two men stared one another down. Beth chanced to look at the second man, noticing how he took a step to the side. Instinct took over and she mirrored him, stepping out from behind Daryl, deliberately brushing herself against his arm as she did so, letting him know through touch what she was doing. The man froze, but she didn’t, strolling the length of the gate in easy, measured steps.

“Who’s she?”

Daryl grunted. “Family.”

There was a pause. “She wasn’t with the rest of you.”

Beth heard him make another low sound, felt the weight of his eyes on her as she turned and walked back towards him. “Ain’t none of yer damned business where she was. She’s here now.”

Another stretch of silence. Beth ignored it, keeping her gaze focused on the man behind the first as she slowly paced in front of the gate. Her stare unnerved him, she could tell. He was fidgeting, twitchy, his eyes darting to avoid eye contact, to avoid even looking at her. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the coolness in the air, and his handle on that gun just kept getting tighter.

Sheep.

“Deanna’s gonna need to talk to her,” the man said grudgingly.

Daryl’s voice was blunt, uncompromising. “Nothin’ to talk about.”

“Rick might disagree.”

She saw Daryl lean forward even as he braced an arm casually against the edge of the first gate. “Then go get him.”

It was a blatant dismissal, and he didn’t miss it, his head snapping back and his nostrils flaring. He opened his mouth like he was going to shoot something back. It pissed her off.

Beth made a low, impatient noise in the back of her throat, a growled warning as she stalked up and down the gate. It caught both men’s attention and she felt a small thrill of satisfaction as the second one’s foot intuitively slid back.

The first one finally said gruffly, “Fine. Wait here.”

“Like we’re gonna do tha’ somewhere else,” she heard Daryl mutter as he settled himself more comfortably against the fence.

The two men exchanged a meaningful look and the second one nodded as the first backed up a couple of steps before turning on his heel and marching up the street Beth could see stretching back into the compound. She didn’t break stride as she slinked back and forth, her wide blue eyes narrowed to slits as she watched the man standing shiftily behind the gate. She was half-tempted to snap towards the gate and bare her teeth just to watch him jump. Wouldn’t have been any point to it though, other than her own amusement.

Beth almost gave into the urge when he looked at Daryl and said, “Tell your friend to quit starin’ at me like that.”

He snorted as he patted his shirt pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “Quit yer frettin’, Nick, she ain’t gonna bite ya.” She saw him cut his eyes towards her in her periphery. “S’long as ya don’ get too close.”

There was something in the way he said it that puzzled her, a nuance that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. And when she glanced at him, the corner of his mouth was quirked up again, like he was laughing.

Then she realized that he was, in a way. Teasing, she thought. He was teasing her.

_Yer heavier than you look._

The words came flying back to her and her steps almost faltered. How had she forgotten about something like that? Because there’d been no room for it, she answered herself. Suddenly, she felt uncomfortable, like she was missing something. How did she answer? Did she? Should she react in some way? Wasn’t there something that she was supposed to do? Yes, she knew that. It tickled at the back of her head, made it throb a little as she blindly groped in her mind for what that was. She couldn’t remember...

It was a relief to hear the telltale stumbling tread of a walker, its guttural groans bouncing between the trees and across the clearing. Without a thought, Beth moved towards it, taking a position just a couple of feet from the gate and waited. The corpse staggered through the grass, its speed increasing as it caught her scent. Silently, she eased her knife from its sheath, instinctively adjusting her stance as she watched it lunge closer. Slipping between its grasping arms, she sank her knife into its soft flesh, piercing the skull. There was rustling to her left. Reflexively jerked her weapon free and twisted, blond hair whipping out. She changed her grip on the hilt mid-swing, viciously stabbing the blade into the second walker’s temple. The thing crumpled like a dropped sack and Beth leaned down to wipe the blade off on its tattered shirt.  

When she turned back around, Daryl was watching her, his eyes narrowed intently. A warm tingle drifted up her spine as they swept over her.

_“You said you could take care of yourself. You did.”_

The words drifted through her mind as she walked back towards him, her wide blue eyes fixed on his face, his cigarette clenched in the corner of his mouth. She tried to interpret what his expression was - approval, maybe something else? She wasn’t entirely sure, so she let her gaze drop slightly to take in his body language. His arms were folded loosely across his chest, his hands neither near the knives at his belt nor holding his crossbow. One boot was crossed over the other, relaxed...but not. The muscle of his jaw was tight. The lines around his eyes had deepened too. His shoulders were set a little forward. Beth glanced at his face.

There was something about his expression. It drew her, made her want to move towards him, as if pulled. Beth kept walking, studying him and sort of feeling as though he was studying her in turn. What was that look? She didn’t know. Or, it was more like she did, but didn’t have the word for it.  Morgan had never given her that sort of look. Had she seen it before? Maybe? Perhaps not, though. Daryl didn’t move as she came near, his eyes intense and focused on her, tracing her features.    

As she came to a stop in front of him, she heard footsteps rapidly approaching, hard fast clops against concrete and pulling her attention. Tearing her eyes from his, Beth turned her head to see two people she didn’t recognize quickly striding up to the gate, a clean-shaven man and a woman with a sword strapped across her back.

They saw her. And they were smiling.

Beth glanced one more time towards Daryl, uncertain, and found that he was still looking at her. When their eyes met again, he pushed off from the gate, reaching down for the deer.

“C’mon,” he rasped, his voice rough. “Told ya there’d be people happy t’see ya.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I'm glad I could get this one up today. And can I just say WOW at how many kudos and comments this story has gotten already?? You guys are awesome! Thank you so much for all the support! :D


	4. Chapter 4

Rain pattered hard and quick over the roof. The sound had seemed to immediately draw Beth's attention, her head tipping back to stare at the porch ceiling as she leaned back against a post. As soon as they'd walked up the front porch steps of the house, the sky had opened up, drenching the street in seconds and turning it into a small creek. Daryl wasn't complaining. He didn't think that he'd ever complain again. Probably wasn't true, but at that moment, he could have believed it.

Today, he could believe damn near anything.

He pinched a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, taking a long drag as he sat back against the wall of the house he shared with Rick, Sasha and Michonne, stretching his legs out on the painted floorboards. He usually didn't light a second one, but he reckoned that he fucking well needed it.

Her fingers were drumming again, like they had been outside the wall, tapping out a three-beat rhythm against her thigh. Her eyes, half-lidded, slipped up and down the length of the whitewashed canopy. He took in how relaxed she seemed right then, how she'd occasionally breathe deep and her eyelashes would flutter just a little, like she smelled something good. It was a right different sight than how she'd acted out there. She'd been a three-legged cat with a kitten tick, skittish and on edge right up until the gate. He wondered if she'd noticed how easily she'd slipped into the old pattern of keeping close to his back, watching the rear.

He wondered how much of that she even remembered.

Because she'd looked at Michonne and Rick like they were strangers.

Beth had damn near jumped out of her skin when Rick had gone to pull her into a hug, dodging him and shifting to that her back was planted right up against Daryl's side, her eyes wide and wild again, like they had been in the woods. That had brought everyone up short. Rick had called her name, and Daryl had felt the tremble that started in her hands as she blindly reached back and put her palm against his stomach, her fingers curling into his dark shirt like it was a life line. Daryl tried then, saying her name in a low voice, like he was talking to a spooked puppy. It'd taken a little time, and a lot more talking than he was used to, but eventually, Beth seemed to tune back in to what he was saying. The cornered look in her eyes faded and she slowly straightened from where she had pressed herself back against him, her fingers loosening gradually until she dropped her hand altogether.

Both Rick and Michonne's gazes had been full of questions, but Daryl's warning glance had them keeping their distance. He'd given them the deer to take to the pantry building (and why the hell they called it that, he had no idea), keeping a close eye on Beth as he spoke with them quietly. As large as the zone was, it was still a small community; news of her presence was going to spread pretty quick. He wanted to at least give her a chance to breathe for a little bit before she was swarmed by a well-meaning family, especially after she'd reacted the way she had.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. As much as he'd enjoyed watching her scare the shit out of Nick at the gate, he doubted that the rest of their group was going to take in stride. Especially Maggie. Daryl winced lightly as the other Greene sister flashed across his mind. There was no way that wasn't going to be painful. Rick had agreed with him when he'd brought it up in the street, promising to keep it to himself until later that day. Then both he and Michonne had headed for the gate. Daryl hadn't much liked Rick going out there to meet Morgan without him, but Michonne was one of the very few people he trusted to completely have his brother's back.

Taking one last drag, he mashed the end of the cigarette against the floorboards at his hip. Then he clambered up to his feet. The movement drew Beth's eyes from the ceiling and he jerked his head towards the inside of the house.

"C'mon. Might as well getcha lookin' like somethin' other than a wild woman."

Reluctantly, she pushed off the post and Daryl reached out a hand to touch her lower back without thinking about it, gently nudging her when he felt her pause in the open doorway. "Keep goin'," he muttered.

She looked up at him over her shoulder, her brow furrowing and her mouth set in that stubborn line again. But she did as he said, stepping into the entryway and off to the side so he could shift past her. Her footsteps echoed his on the hardwood floor as he went straight for the staircase leading to the second floor. Turning right at the top, he opened the first door on the left and held it as she came up behind him.

"You good?" he asked her gruffly, hoping like hell that she was. Otherwise he was sending her outside with a washcloth and a bar of soap. Beth slowly nodded again, to his relief, although he didn't mention how dubiously she stared at the glass stall. "Aright." He pointed at the closed door at the end of the hall. "Michonne's got some extra things that'll probably fit ya. She said you could pick out what ya liked."

He watched her as she hesitantly peered down the corridor, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth. It was only after a rough, "Go on" and a light nudge with the toe of his boot against her heel that she even took a step in that direction. It made his chest tighten uncomfortably to see her so unsure, tiptoeing like a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce on her. It was so unlike the way she'd handled herself earlier. Throw walkers at her and she wouldn't even blink. Try to get her to do something most people considered normal, like retrieving clean clothes, and she looked damn near ready to bolt at any second. It made him that much more certain that something had definitely changed in his girl.

Daryl bit back a snort, bracing his shoulder against the wall. It sounded silly even in his own head. But then...it sort of didn't. He rubbed his fingers across his mouth as he watched her gingerly open the door to Michonne's room. Wasn't exactly any other words for it. 'Friend' sure as fuck didn't cover it. Didn't fit in the sibling category either. Not after the shack. Not after the funeral home. And the way she looked right then, small, her shoulder hunching apprehensively as she cautiously opened the door…

_Her hands looked tiny as she wrapped them around the stock of the crossbow, holding it in a death grip as she awkwardly held it up. Right then and there, he about lost his patience. She looked like a kid playing more than anything else. He told her so before he could think better of it, and he was kicking himself when she wilted right before his eyes. But then her chin had come up and her lips pressed together._

" _Then teach me how to hold it," she ground out, shadows dappling her features as a gust of wind stirred the trees around them._

_He snorted, but his feet somehow were already moving him behind her, his hands sliding down her arms to adjust them. His fingers closed around hers, shifting them so that she had a better grip. Her back was warm against his chest as he used his feet to guide hers into a more balanced position. It took a lot more effort than he'd thought it would to ignore that as he leaned down to murmur instructions in her ear._

Daryl scratched behind his ear and shifted against the wall. He hadn't let himself think about days like that in a long while; days that'd almost been quiet. Walkers had interrupted the lesson, but Beth'd insisted that he keep showing her how to shoot. She'd been like a bulldog with a bone about it, and if he was completely honest with himself, he'd liked that. It'd been...good, to share that with someone else. He found himself wondering if she still wanted to.

A part of him dared to hope so.

The door to Michonne's room opened again and Beth stepped out, clothes draped over her arms. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were firmly glued to the floor as she walked around him and into the bathroom. She hovered in the doorway for a long minute, her weight shifting from foot to foot before she pulled her gaze up to look at him, her eyes once again wide and luminous as her long blonde hair framed her face. Her lip had disappeared again.

Daryl grunted. "Ain't goin' nowhere," he said, figuring that was what she wanted to hear. It was the goddamned truth too.

And it seemed like he was right. Beth nodded, shoving the unruly strands back as she quietly shut the bathroom door. He let his head fall back against the wall with a quiet groan. He heard the shower start, barely discernible from the hammering of the rain against the house. So much was the same, and so much was different. Beth was the same, but different. Being so damned quiet was one example. He'd seen her go through long periods of that, at the farm, the prison...never with him, though. Always with other people, people she hadn't known, people she hadn't trusted.

 _She hadn't always known you,_ Merle's voice argued from the back of his mind. _And she sure as hell hadn't always been comfortable, or trustin'. Not tha' I blame her. Creepy ass shit like you, hangin' 'round while the pretty thing showers._

She asked, Daryl shot back, scowling at the opposite wall as he folded his arms and settled himself. And I ain't lettin' her get more than a couple feet from me no ways. He swallowed hard. Liable t'turn 'round and she'll-

He couldn't finish that thought. Closing his eyes, he tried to tune the rest of his head out and just listen to the rain. A soft noise pricked his ears, though, making his eyes fly open and his head snap up as he realized it was being repeated. And it was coming from the bathroom.

It was quiet, hardly more than a whimper, but there was no mistaking her voice.

Humming. Beth was humming a tune.

He let his eyes close once more, the sound drifting over him, tugging at something in his chest and loosening it. Daryl let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Sweet, warm, strong - those were words he'd use to describe what she sounded like right then. It made him remember. Remember things he hadn't let himself dwell on in a long, long time.

_I thought my singin' annoyed you._

The corner of his mouth quirked again.

Some things didn't always have to stay the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the kudos and comments! I'm just blown away by the support and encouragement. :D


	5. Chapter 5

The noise took her by surprise. She'd hardly noticed it at first, closing her eyes and simply enjoying the hot water running down her body in rivulets, washing away what felt like years of accumulated grime. In a way, it unnerved her, being clean. The soap smelled good, but it was so  _strong_ in her nose. The first bit of lather she touched to her skin nearly made her panic, her first thought flying to the possibility that she wouldn't be able to hide.

But how could she hide here?

The sound was gentle in the background, a refrain for her thoughts as she worked her fingers through her pale hair, fluttering her fingertips over the scarred tissue at the back of her skull. Where was there to hide? She'd hardly gotten more than a glance up and down the streets as Daryl had led her here. It was like a pen, confined, a maze, but one that the walkers could easily navigate. The people here.  _They_ were clean, smelled of soap and laundry detergent. They were out in the open, laughing, playing, loud as they could be. It was ridiculous. It was careless.

It was deadly.

Dirt ringed her feet on the shower floor and she brushed it down the drain with her toe idly, not quite willing to pull herself from the sweet-smelling steam. She tucked her arms around her middle as images flashed through her mind. A metallic tang was suddenly on her tongue, her imagination conjuring pictures that made her stomach roil. Her hand instinctively went to her throat.

That was when she noticed the humming. Or, at that moment, it's sudden absence. Why had she been humming?

A sharp pain stabbed through the back of her head at the question, so she immediately shied away from it with a grimace. It didn't matter.

Reaching behind her, she turned the knob to off, then slid open the door. A large white towel hung on a rack on the wall and she grabbed it, wrapping it around her slight frame as she stood on tiptoe to tug another from the shelf above. Her motions were automatic as she bent over and started vigorously scrubbing the material over her hair, enjoying the feel of her nails scraping her scalp, so much so that she shivered. When she straightened, tossing her hair back, she caught her image in the foggy mirror over the sink. Frowning, she took a step towards it, her arm stretching out to run her fingers down the wet glass. Droplets streaked in their wake and clung to the calloused pads as she dropped her hand to rest on the damp countertop. Her head canted as she stared at the reflection.

Who was that?

Beth.

That was Beth, or is Beth. But was that  _her?_

She reached up with her other hand and carefully traced the scars that stretched across her cheeks, sloppily stitched and a blistering pink. Her fingertips inched upwards, towards the ragged, puckered wound above her eye, half obscured by wild blonde hair. It twinged under her touch, phantom pain. The skin had already re-knitted itself, tight and shiny, almost perfectly round.

New.

This wasn't always her face. These marks were new. She wasn't born with them. But she couldn't remember when she  _didn't_ have them. Unconsciously, she leaned over the sink, peering closely at her features in the glass. Her eyes seemed almost too large for her face, dark liquid pools of blue and black. She stared into them, a wave of relief flooding through her when there was no flash of recollection. Just eyes, sunken and exhausted, but undeniably hers.

She glanced down and carefully plucked up a hairbrush that had been set next to the basin. With exaggerated care, she held it up, her grip on its handle awkward. How long had it been since she'd brushed her hair?

Since just now, she decided firmly, refusing to let the questions haunt her. Wrapping a handful of pale strands around her other hand, she dragged the plastic bristles through them. Her eyes stung as wet knots held, snagged. Her throat closed up, her face flushed hotly and for a second, there  _was_ a memory. Suddenly she was five again and her Mama was running a comb through her hair, getting ready for church. It hit her with the force of a mac truck. She choked out a sob, letting the brush fall to the tile floor with a clatter.

Swiping a rough hand across her face, she bent down and retrieved it, putting it back exactly where she'd found it. A fine tremble started in her arms, traveled down her legs as she unwrapped the towel and tossed it onto the countertop. Taking care, she pulls on the clothes she borrowed, undergarments, jeans that fit better than her old pair, and a thin cotton sweater that was butter yellow. The fabric felt weird against her skin, like they didn't fit right, and she half-turned to look down at her old clothing, blood-spattered and caked with so much dirt and gore that she couldn't even tell the colors anymore. There was no salvaging them. But they felt  _like_ her skin. Another part of her body.

Gone.

Or they would be. She couldn't hang on to them. It made no sense. She knew that. And yet, it felt like she was giving up a part of herself. Which was absolutely ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as not brushing her hair.

Her lips pressed together tightly as she swiveled her head to glare down at the brush. Jerkily, she reached for it again, only to stop when her fingers were less than an inch away.

" _Beth, quit it! Yer gonna pull all my hair out!"_

She dropped her hand. Coward. The word bit into her head, but she stuffed it into the back of her mind, into the dark corner with her cloudy memories and dream-inspired thoughts.

Instead, she crossed the small room and pulled the door open. Daryl was still where she'd left him she realized with another wave of relief. She felt her cheeks heat again as his gaze raked over her, down, then up again. The corner of his mouth quirked up and for a second, she thought he was going to make a comment about how wild and tangled she left her hair. But then he flicked his gaze to hers and that half-formed fear dissolves.

He pushed off from the wall. "C'mon."

He led her back downstairs, back through the entryway and into the wide open kitchen. Tugging open the refrigerator, he stepped back and held the door, shoving one hand in the pocket of his black pants as he ticked his chin towards the chilled shelves. "Wha'cha want?"

She was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choices. Vegetables, cut meat, fruit, even eggs! Where did these people get eggs? Her fingers twisted around themselves as she hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth. She could choose? The thought was staggering. When was the last time she'd been able to choose what she wanted to eat, instead of just shoving whatever was edible down her throat? What...what should she pick? What wasn't taken? Her eyes grew wider and wider the longer she hesitated and her breathing started to shorten.

Almost instantly, Daryl seemed to pick up on the panic unfurling in her belly, reaching inside and pulling out a small container. He shut the door and pointed to a stool on the other side of the island. "Sit yer ass down, I'll heat this crap up. Ain't too good, but it'll stick to yer ribs."

She did as he said, gingerly sliding onto the stool and letting her hands rest on the cool granite countertop as he dug out a pot. Dumping the container's contents into it, he set it on the stove and flipped on the eye. She didn't watch him, though. Her gaze was pulled to the surrounding room, cavernous to her, so large and spacious. A chill swept down her spine as she mentally counted places, places where she could ambush, places where she could escape, places where she could hide…

There weren't very many.

It made her gut spiral tight again, sent a twitch to her fingers that manifested in pulse-beat tapping against cold, smooth stone. If she hadn't been looking in that direction, the sound of the screen door on the front porch would have had her flinging herself up. She'd barely managed to stay seated anyway, the instinct to bolt and grab for the knife she'd put back at her waist very nearly too strong for her to resist. For a second, her eyes shot to Daryl, saw him turn his head towards the front of the house with a frown. That expression alone indicated that he wasn't expecting anyone.

"Sasha, are ya here?"

A woman's voice called out, tinged in a slow, soft drawl and full of something so familiar that she felt an ache in her chest.

"Aw, shit," came Daryl's voice behind her, making her skin prickle uneasily. He lifted his voice and barked, "She ain't here, Maggie."

Maggie?

Her chest suddenly felt knotted, an ache starting to throb in the back of her head. Unconsciously, she lifted a hand to rub at that spot, her fingers parting her hair to reach where her skin creased, where the...the wrongness had passed through and left its mark.

In a blur of long limbs and dark hair, a woman popped her head around the corner, cat green eyes warm and earnest. "Do ya know whe- Oh, sorry, Daryl, I didn't know ya had com-" Suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room as their gazes locked. The woman let out a shaky breath, her voice sounding like a strangled whisper. "Beth?"

She came around the corner completely, her long legs eating up the distance between them, her arms stretching out as her eyes filled with tears. But Beth launched off the stool in an instant, desperate to keep that distance intact. Her head felt like it was going to explode. The woman kept coming, and Beth scrambled to get behind the bar in a flurry of wild blonde hair, fight or flight response kicking into overdrive as her hand wrapped around the hilt of her knife. She wanted to scream at her to get away, to not come any closer, but she couldn't remember how and that lump was back in her throat-

"Oh, God, Beth, are you real?"

She hissed in a breath through clenched teeth at the question, the heel of her palm smacking against the scar on her forehead. She didn't see Daryl move to cut the other woman off, didn't hear the sharp call of her name as her vision swam. With a groan, Beth lowered her hand in time to catch the woman's eyes again, her features set in a furious and desperate expression as Daryl blocked her path.

"Get the hell out of my way, Daryl! I gotta look at her."

"Ya can see her jus' fine from there," he growled. "She ain't right, Maggie, don't go crowdin' her."

"How do you know?" Maggie snapped before her eyes flew to Beth's, her tone gentling as she reached past Daryl's shoulder with her hand. "Bethy, c'mere, lemme look at ya, baby."

Beth was shaking her head before she realized she was making the motion, still continuing to back away until the corner of the cabinets was digging into her lower back. She shut her eyes; it hurt too much to hold her look. Her heart was pounding and she felt tremors racing down her legs, making them weak, her shoulders curling forward.

_Laughter echoing in her ears, bubbly while a small hand curled around hers, tugging her along as the smell of summer grass and wide open sky tickled her nose._

_"Beth!"_

_Quiet giggles in a sunlit room, dust motes dancing in beams of light._

_The taste of blackberries thick and sweet in her mouth, splashing through still green water as someone shrieked happily behind her._

_"Beth."_

Different voice. Rougher, like her name was made of chapped leather and cigarette smoke. Daryl.

Exhaling heavily, she opened her eyes again. They were alone. The realization instantly had the tension draining from her body. She looked up into his face. He didn't say anything else for a beat, studying her features like he was trying to get a read on her. His eyes narrowed and he glanced away.

"She's ain't gonna be gone long," he warned her as he moved back to the stove, snatching a bowl down from the open shelves. Tipping the pot over, he filled it, the scent of tomatoes wafting up into the air. He handed the hot soup to her. "Eat tha' and we'll see 'bout side-steppin' her for a bit." Beth reached for the sleeve of his jacket and insistently tugged, jerking her head in the direction of the back porch. He caught her meaning with a snort. "Aright, if ya can eat and walk at the same time."

If it meant getting the hell out of that house and away from the things it was invoking in her head, she'd have walked into a herd blindfolded with no bullets in the gun and a toothpick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this one! I feel pretty proud of myself cranking these out so quickly. Thank you so much for the support and encouragement! And no worries, a more extended reunion with Maggie is coming up!


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl'd kept them close to the wall most of the day, mostly just walking its perimeter and letting Beth adjust to the place. It was slow going, and it probably didn't help that he was as unused to some of the sounds and sights that leapt up at them as she was. He hated seeing that panicked, cornered look on her face.

He scowled, thinking of that afternoon. If Maggie had been anyone else, he'd have hauled her ass right out of the house. Woman had no business pushing her issues onto Beth when she didn't even really know or understand them. And he knew she didn't, that same lack of recognition in her eyes when she'd first looked at him in the woods had been there when her sister had barged her way into the kitchen.

It was dusk when he guided her around the corner of a two-story house that sat right on the street. He'd given it some thought and, at least for a day or two, this was probably the best place for Beth to be. He'd made friends here, despite his best efforts, and if anyone could keep Maggie and the rest of their family at bay, just long enough for her to acclimate, they could. Guilt curled in his belly, but he stomped it down. Beth needed this, he reasoned. She needed space and time to get her head straight. If all of them crowded around her at once, she could collapse like she had in the woods.

Daryl made a quiet noise in his throat. That wasn't happenin' again.

Taking a quick look up and down the street, his fingers tapped against her arm, brushing over the brightly colored fabric that covered it, signaling the all clear. He could feel her close behind him as they trotted up the front steps, heard her hair swish against his jacket when she turned to keep an eye behind them. He rapped his knuckles hard on the door glass, secretly glad that she treated the idyllic suburban neighborhood as she would anywhere else - dangerous. Because it was, for all the neat-trimmed houses and manicured lawns.

Because it encouraged complacency.

And  _fuck,_ but that was as dangerous a threat as anything else.

The door swung inward and Daryl dipped his head once to the man on the other side, tall with dark eyes and curly hair. He smiled warmly.

"Eric said you'd smell the spaghetti and come runnin'," he teased gently.

Daryl grunted. "Hey, Aaron. Mind if we come in?"

Aaron's brows lifted. "We?"

Daryl shifted a bit to the side, revealing Beth as she turned back around to see who he was talking to. Aaron's eyes widened as they flew to Daryl's incredulously.

"Don't tell me-"

"Yeah," Daryl said, cutting him off. He really didn't want to have this conversation on the front porch.

Aaron seemed to catch that, turning the latch and moving aside to hold the screen door open. "Come on in."

Daryl glanced back at Beth, nodding to her. Slowly, she nodded back, her soup bowl still cradled between both hands. Sliding his foot across the wooden boards, he nudged her heel, his hand reaching out to usher her inside ahead of him as his gaze swept over the street one last time. Satisfied it was empty, he followed her in and Aaron shut the door behind them.

Daryl caught Beth's eyes as she stared at him for a long moment, searchingly, then watched as she turned to look around the foyer. He took in her body language as she took a couple more steps forward, peeking around the corner that led into the living room. She had visibly relaxed. As she turned again, he caught her expression, open and curious as she canted her head, looking at the pictures and knick knacks Aaron had collected to decorate the walls.

It made the tension that had been curling tight in his muscles ease. She didn't feel threatened here. Maybe because he didn't?

She trusted him. She  _still_  trusted him.

Whether intuitively or because of memories that he wasn't entirely sure she was aware of, she believed him. If he felt comfortable, so would she. If not...well, he'd already seen what she'd do if that were the case.

Eric would probably have a heart attack.

"Beth." He said her name softly, still getting used to saying it at all. He'd taken her name and buried it so deep, it surprised him a little that he remembered how it sounded.

To his ears, it didn't sound right coming from his mouth. Beth was...more. Her name meant more than his voice could ever fully articulate, couldn't even rightly articulate.

_Blue eyes reflecting fire in the candlelight and honey sweet songs drifting in the air, lulling him to sleep in a bed meant for the dead._

_Cheeks flushed red as words scalded him like hot whips, her spine stiff and her finger jabbing at him, refusing to back down when he lashed out at her._

_Her hands steady and cool as she fired round after round into the horde of walkers bearing down on them, every inch of her carved from sunlight and tempered steel; fierce, bright and so goddamned beautiful-_

Beautiful.

She was. It was the best word he had to describe her. Pacing back and forth in front of that gate like one of them big golden cats, fluidly stalking the men behind it. And before that, in the woods; she had been  _hunting_  him, tracking his trail like it was second fucking nature.

Tha' what gets you hot, Darlina? Merle's voice echoed in his head, mocking. Little piece of jailbait tail huntin' yer pathetic ass down 'cause yer too damned lazy t'cover yer trail better.

Daryl realized that she was looking at him silently and he made a low sound, stepping to the side and swinging his arm around to gesture at the man beside him. “He’s-"

"A friend," Aaron finished for him, smiling crookedly and holding his hand out towards her, palm up. "You're Beth, right?"

Beth's eyes flicked to Daryl uncertainly, waited for him to give her a small nod before she grasped Aaron's outstretched hand and shaking it slowly as she dipped her head as well in acknowledgement.

Aaron's smile widened. "I thought so." He released her hand, his gaze stuttering over her features. "Your hair gave you away."

With cheeks flushing, Beth touched her fingers to the wildly waving strands, her lips tilting in a tiny smile that made Daryl feel like someone had stuck their hand in his chest and squeezed. Christ, it was still just as sweet as he remembered; made her whole face light up. Made his insides squirm too, even when it wasn't directed at him.

He shuffled his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Eric around?"

Aaron ticked his chin towards the back of the house. "Kitchen."

Daryl grunted and followed him, hearing Beth's quiet footfalls just beside him. The smell was amazing, wafting through the entire house, filling it with a spicy, rich scent that made his stomach rumble. Eric's slender frame was hovering over the stove behind the breakfast bar in a kitchen almost identical to theirs. He was muttering softly to himself, a thin red apron tied around his waist and one hand on the counter as the other stirred a massive pot.

"Daryl's here," Aaron announced, striding around the bar and dropping a kiss on the other man's temple in passing as he headed for the cabinet where they kept the plates. "And he's brought a friend."

Eric's head whipped around, his ginger brows nearly touching his hairline. Then he saw the petite blonde at Daryl's elbow as he made himself comfortable on a barstool. His smile was gentle and teasing as he tapped his spoon on the lip of the pot. "Well, look at the cute little kitten the tomcat dragged in." His eyes settled on Beth warmly, ignoring Daryl's derisive snort. "Hello there, sunshine. I'm Eric."

Daryl's lips twitched. "This's Beth."

Eric's hazel eyes widened. " _The_  Beth?" At Daryl's nod, he let out a heavy breath, then shot a reproving look at his boyfriend's broad back. "You could have said something, babe."

"And ruin the surprise?" Aaron asked, setting out two extra plates on the table.

"Pfft." Eric made a dismissive gesture and turned back to the stove, angling his head away from the steam.

Daryl chewed absently on his thumbnail as Beth settled on the stool next to him, hesitantly setting her soup bowl on the counter top. Eric plucked it from in front of her when he moved in front of her, dropping it into the sink with hardly more than a glance. It startled her and she jerked back a little, but Daryl jabbed her lightly with his elbow.

"S'aright," he murmured, pleased when she relaxed again at his words. Then he turned his attention to the two men bustling in the kitchen across from them. "Y'all mind if we crash here a day or two?"

"Not at all." Aaron half-turned from where he was standing in front of the refrigerator, his expression empathetic as his gaze fell on Beth. "Havin' a hard time?"

Beth didn't answer, her fingers twisting into the sleeves of her sweater as she ducked her head a little. So Daryl spoke up for her. "I think she jus' needs a few days t'get used t'all this. Our people ain't gonna wanna give her the space t'do tha'. Be too damned excited to see her."

Eric flashed another smile at him as he poured noodles into a second pot, the water bubbling up.

"Sure. It'll be nice to have an indoor cat coming around for a change."

Daryl snorted again. Ever since he'd eaten with them the first time, Eric had started on him being an outdoor tom trying to be an indoor cat and hadn't quit. It amused the hell out of him and Aaron both. The couple was by far the nicest people in the safe zone, and they'd always treated him like he was one of their family. Daryl didn't care one way or the other what they called him, but since they were kind enough to feed him a couple times a week, he never said anything.

With the practiced ease, the two men set the table, working around one another smoothly.

"Do you like cheese on your spaghetti, Beth?"

Her eyes shot to Daryl, mildly panicky, questioning. She didn't know, he read it in her face. Something was lurking behind her eyes, a memory that he suspected was just out of reach. She couldn't remember and it scared the hell out of her. His mind flashed to her expression when she'd come out of the bathroom earlier that day.

"Let her try it, man," he said gruffly, taking the pressure off. Her soft exhale made his chest twinge, and he nudged her again, inclining his head towards the table. "C'mon. Yer still hungry, ain't ya?" Before she could even nod, her belly let out a tiny rumble. She looked down, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink, and for the first time in what felt like years, Daryl chuckled, the sound dry. "Yeah, ya are."

And when she grinned, honest to god  _grinned_  at him, the same one she'd had when she'd told him to burn that shack to the ground, he felt his heartbeat stutter. Because that was a smile he hadn't thought he would ever see again. So bright and playful that it was almost painful to look at.

It made him realize just how much he'd missed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist bringing Eric and Aaron into the story. I feel like they would make Daryl part of their family, whether he liked it or not, and I ADORE them! Thank you all for the comments and kudos, y'all are so awesome and encouraging to me. I really appreciate the support! :)


	7. Chapter 7

She didn't like the bed.

It wasn't that it was uncomfortable or smelled funny or anything like that. She just wasn't  _used_ to one. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laid down on a mattress, although she knew that she must have at some point in her life, to even know what it was. Eric had given her a t-shirt to sleep in since they were about the same size, but she had just left it on the chair in the corner of her guestroom, uneasy to sleep in anything less than all of her clothes, except her boots. It just didn't feel right to wear anything less.

She lay on her back, on top of the covers and her arms spread eagle on either side of her as she stared at the ceiling. They were nice, the couple that lived here. They'd been kind, and patient, seeming to sense that she wasn't comfortable talking. So they talked around her, never asking anything that would have required an answer from her. They didn't pry, or poke.

She'd appreciated that.

A sound drew her attention from the ceiling. She sat up, bracing her weight on her palms, her head tilting as she listened. It was a quiet sound, but deep, drifting from across the hall. She'd left the door to the room open deliberately. The tightness in her chest eased knowing she wasn't trapped in a strange room. The logical part of her mind, or what was left of it, dimly argued that a closed door did not necessarily mean trapped, just as an open one didn't always mean that you weren't. It drifted through the open door again and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Rain was still pattering outside, the clouds thick and dark enough to obscure even a sliver of moonlight. The only light came a window in the room across the hall. She turned her head to peer down towards the rest of the house, which was a pitch black mass of shadow, but that hardly mattered. It wasn't the dark itself that scared her anymore.

Silently, Beth crept into the wide corridor. She hesitated in the doorway, uncertain. The sound came again, lower, from across the way, from the room Daryl had picked to sleep. He'd chosen to keep his door open too, his voice warm and gruff as he told her to just call if she needed anything. It probably hadn't occurred to him that  _he_ might need  _her._ That was the thought that had her socked feet pacing across the hardwood floor. A street light glowed orange and soft in the window across the room, casting long, horizontal shadows over the bed near the wall. It wasn't very big, but it was wide enough to fit two people.

Daryl had tossed the comforter to the floor, along with the pillows, lying flat on his back on top of the sheets, almost exactly as she had been as if he hadn't been entirely able to be comfortable in a bed either. His body twitched fitfully in the dim light, one arm bent under his head while the other moved restlessly on his stomach. He made another sound, distressed, fidgeting on top of the sheets. It drew Beth to the bed, crossing the room in just a few strides with a furrowed brow. She didn't like that noise. It sounded pained like something was hurting him and he had no power to stop it. Daryl was a lot of things, but helpless wasn't one of them. To even think that bothered her deeply.

He did it again, louder, and groaned, his breathing uneven. His head twisted on his arm, his long dark hair covering part of his face. "Beth."

Her breath caught, the sound of her name a slap, so full of fear. It made her heart clench. It propelled her forward again. She sat on the edge of the bed and stretched her arm out to him, smoothing her fingertips over his cheek, up to his temple, pushing back the lank strands. His fingers stilled on his stomach, then flattened, the troubled look on his features fading. He still made low sounds in his throat, but they were more of a murmuring kind, like someone who talks in their sleep, not a person trapped in a nightmare. As quietly and as subtly as she could, Beth slipped up the bed until she was lying next to him. She pressed against him instinctively, like one puppy to another, attempting to sooth with warmth and shared heartbeat. Gently, she guided him onto his side, facing away from her so that she could fully rest her body against his, her knees tucked into the bend of his, one arm wrapping around his waist and her face buried between his shoulder blades. She breathed in the scent of leather and cigarettes, letting her body relax so that his would in turn. The fingers of her other hand drifted up to stroke through his hair, as much comfort as she could offer.

And it seemed to work. She felt the tension in his body bleed away, felt his pulse slow to the point that she could no longer feel it pounding where her chest met his back. A twinge of familiarity passed through her mind as if she'd been here before, but she didn't try to hold on to it or identify it. Not important, not right now. Softly, almost too softly to even be considered audible, she started to hum, a tune that floated from somewhere in that dark corner of her mind reserved for the things she could only half-remember.

She listened to his breathing, even and deep, and let her eyes drift closed. If she could lie in a bed like this, next to something or someone that she knew she could absolutely trust, she'd probably have been comfortable in the bed across the hall. But she was content where she was, sleep coming far more easily than it would have otherwise.

When she opened her eyes next, it was due to startlement. The sun hadn't risen yet, the room still dim and the shadows deep and black in its corners. A couple of hours had passed at most. Blinking, she mentally checked herself. Adrenaline was a hair's breath from flooding her system, her heart quickened and her muscles flexed tight as if she would leap from the bed and straight out the window.

Perhaps a better way to put that was if she could. Daryl had rolled over again at some point, his arm thrown around her hip and his nose buried in her wild hair. The other arm had slipped under her head, working as a pillow for them both. Her hands were folded against his chest, her fingers curled into worn cotten. Their legs had tangled, and movement had caused the sheet beneath them to bunch and fold around their limbs, binding them together. Daryl's features were pinched and he shifted against her, agitated. Beth lifted her hand, her palm partially swallowed by the sleeve of her sweater and touched his face.

"Daryl." His name came out without thought, husky and quiet. Her fingers moved along the curve of his jaw, almost petting. "Daryl," she repeated, not exactly calling him, but sort of trying to let him know that she was there and that he was okay. She didn't know if it would work, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Maybe it was. He stilled again, for a second, then shifted once more, stretching. Slowly, his eyes opened and even in the poor light, she could see just how blue they were. Not the deep, cornflower shade of her own, but brighter and in her opinion, more intense. Right now, they were a little glazed from sleep, but they sharpened almost instantaneously when they landed on hers. He jerked away from her with a grunt like she'd burned him.

She reached up and stroked his cheek again, following her instinct and making his eyes blow wide. She didn't speak, barely moved aside from her fingers, trying not to spook him. He felt like he getting ready to bolt out of the bed; she could feel the tension where the length of his body touched hers. Silently, she groped for the words that she thought he needed to hear, to know why she was there and what she was there for. Not because she thought he might misconstrue her intent, but because she wanted him to feel at ease. He'd done so much for her, probably more than she could realize right now with her memories as they were. Whatever she could do in return, that was within her power, she wanted to do.

"Nightmare," she murmured, finally finding the right word in her mind. She gently tapped the tip of her finger against his cheekbone. "Daryl, a nightmare."

She couldn't explain any better than that, and it frustrated her a little, but he seemed to understand.

"Ya heard me?"

She nodded, tracing his face with her eyes and hand quietly, watching the flicker of emotions as they flitted across his features-surprise, embarrassment, discomfort...But there were also warmer ones that reassured her that she'd done the right thing. By degrees, the tenseness in his muscles relaxed again. Despite that, she wondered if he'd ask her to go. She hoped not. Her sleep hadn't been nearly as fitful here as it had in the past.

So she asked him. "Stay?"

She was internally pleased that she'd managed to get so many words out at one time. Perhaps it was because she'd wanted to, or maybe it was being near him that allowed her to feel comfortable enough to attempt to speak. Either way, she thought that it was a likely improvement.

He grunted gruffly. "You wanna stay?" She nodded again, once. He was searching her face intently, but what he was looking for, she didn't know. Finally, he asked, "Were ya sleepin' good?" She hummed an affirmative. A silence stretched between them for a long moment as he studied her. "Aright."

She went to put her head back where it'd been, her temple tucked beneath his cheek, only to feel him stiffen again. Frowning, she tilted her head back to look at him and felt the muscle in his jaw tighten under her hand, where she'd left it. Slowly, she let it drop back to curl against the other at his chest, watching him as he watched her. She didn't understand the unease in his body language. They were warmer and safer next to one another. It made no sense to her that that would make him uncomfortable. Very carefully, he eased her away from him, reaching down to tug on the sheets she was laying on. She lifted her hips accommodatingly and he draped them over her. Then he scooted even further until his back very nearly touched the wall behind him.

When he did, she saw the tension leave him again, releasing along with a hard breath that he seemed to have been holding. "Good night, Beth."

Her frown deepened as he closed his eyes. It was colder now that he'd moved, but his discomfort had ebbed. Why? Again, she was plagued with that seemingly unimportant question.

But if it was so unimportant, a voice asked from the back of her mind as she shut her eyes again, then what was it doing popping up so often?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all of the kudos and comments! I appreciate the encouragement and I'm so glad y'all are enjoying the story! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl groaned quietly as he made that shift from sleep to wakefulness. It wasn't instant, but it was damn close, something his body had learned to do when he was still a kid. Defense mechanism, maybe, but it'd been pretty useful since the world had gone to shit.

It was more a curse than a blessing right then, though, because he opened his eyes to see almost nothing but waving yellow strands that looked like spun spring sunshine. And he was warm, warmer than he normally cared to be, but it wasn't entirely a bad thing. Awareness filled his limbs in the span of a heartbeat, making him conscious of the willowy body that was once again pressed up against him. Their legs weren't tangled, but his thigh had slipped between hers, and his arm was draped over her, fitting her so snugly against him, it would have been difficult to figure out where he ended and she began. One of her hands had burrowed under his shirt in sleep, her fingers warm where they rested against his back. Her face was buried in the crook of his shoulder, her wild mane spread out over the arm under her head, tickling his skin. He glanced around the room, noting that sunlight was barely peeking through the window. Just after dawn. He listened, but the only sound he heard was Beth's breathing, so he figured that Aaron and Eric weren't up yet.

Daryl shifted his head to look down at the top of hers, his eyes immediately drawn to the bullet wound that had barely healed near her hairline. The warmth faded, replaced with a chill that was almost enough to cause the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Unconsciously, he pulled her tighter against him and rested his cheek against her temple. He curled the arm beneath her head up so that he could cradle the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her hair.

Too close, they'd been too fucking close to losing her. Hell, he thought that they  _had_ lost her.

He took a deep breath and caught the scent of the soap she'd used, clean and just faintly smelling of sandalwood. But under that was  _her_ scent. She always smelled like summer to him, something that reminded him of hot sunbeams and thick grass and the faintest trace of rain. Not just one definitive thing, but something that always brought that to mind.

It was a good smell.

He knew he needed to get up. He knew that laying here like this wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. But every time he told himself to let her go, his mind flashed back to the day when he'd had to.

_There was no time._

_Her body was warm, but so still...so still...like a ragdoll, her arms dangled limply against his back as he ran with her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. But he wasn't leaving her here._

" _Daryl, we can't-"_

" _Fuck you, Maggie!" he snarled, keeping his arm around her legs so she wouldn't slip from him. The brunette had recoiled from him, her tears still fresh and trailing down her cheeks, but he didn't see that. Didn't want to see it. His own eyes stung and he ignored it, focusing on keeping his feet moving._

" _Daryl." Another voice, Rick's voice, quiet but compelling._

_He knew. Jesus fucking Christ, he knew what they had to do, but it was going to tear another piece out of his chest to do it._

Daryl's hold on Beth tightened again, enough that he felt her stir and shuffle against him, which made something else that he'd been able to ignore up until that moment stir too. Thankfully, Beth moved back from him, just enough to stretch and look up into his face. He was relieved to see that there was recognition in her eyes. She knew him. She knew where she was. No panic, and oddly enough, no sleepiness either. Just alert and aware. There was still that edge of wildness, lurking beneath the blue, a hint of feral that he was starting believe may be permanent. He didn't know how he felt about that.

There was barely more than a faint glint, though, when she reached out to him, lifting her hand to very carefully place it against his arm. Her fingers were small and pale, white against his tanned skin, but they weren't soft. Callouses lined the length of them where she'd held things a pretty farm girl from Georgia had no business holding, at least not in the world they'd grown up in. But even if they still were in that world, he'd have thought of them as something good. It meant she knew what it was to fight, to work, to be more than a pretty face with a voice that was angelic. He realized right then that he missed her voice. She'd hardly spoken more than a couple of words.

"Daryl," she said softly as if reading his mind. It reminded him of the way she'd spoken his name yesterday. Her tone was husky and warm, made his name sound like something better than it actually was like it was something she could curl into.

He shook his head a little; that was a weird thought, even for him.

So he dismissed it, angling his head so he could meet her eyes instead. "Mornin'."

She nodded to him and if he'd been totally honest with himself, he'd have admitted that the gesture was a little disappointing. He made a quiet mental note to make an effort to get her to talk more. He couldn't always do it for her. She rolled away from him and stood at the edge of the bed. Daryl propped himself up on one elbow and tried not to let his eyes trace over anything more than her face when she turned towards him and stretched again, but it was hard when he could see a sliver of skin peek out from the hem of her sweater. It made something clench low in his belly, watching her move like a lean blonde cat as she worked the kinks of sleep out of her body.

It was a feeling he didn't know what to do with, so he ignored it and scooted down to the foot of the bed, glad that there was no footboard. He reached for his boots, still where he'd kicked them off.

"Hungry?" he asked her and heard her humming an affirmative. He didn't think it was smart to look at her right then, so he kept his gaze trained on his laces. "Bathroom's on the left outside the door if ya want it first."

There was another hum from her side of the bed and he looked up just in time to see her padding barefoot out into the hall. When she disappeared around the doorjamb, Daryl exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Last night, she'd startled the hell out of him. Even when they'd been on their own, he didn't think she'd ever slept that close to him. Waking up with her wrapped around him had been...startling? No, that wasn't the word. Uncomfortable? Maybe, but not exactly right. He probably didn't even know the right word for what he'd felt at that moment, but he'd needed space. Being that close to her had threatened to trigger memories, good and bad, and he hadn't felt like he could really deal with them right then. So he'd put the needed distance between them.

And then he'd woken up again to find himself where he'd started, except this time he hadn't been bothered. What'd changed?

That was a loaded question and one that he wasn't sure he wanted to really answer. Because he already knew; Beth was safe. She had been before, but she'd thrown him off kilter when he'd found her in the bed with him. Before, she'd never have done that. Her Daddy's lesson had been too deeply ingrained for that. In a sense, it had made her safer to be around. She wasn't looking for anything from him except what she could give in return. She was someone he'd known down to his bones that he could rely on, and that he was the same for her. And waking up with her body pressed against his hadn't changed that. But it had made him look at her, if only for a split second, as something more than that. She'd hit his radar as a woman and that had been like a bucket of ice water, jerking him awake and away. It was something that he had no idea how to react to, and the way she'd looked at him last night immediately gave him the impression that she hadn't realized it. Probably a good thing. So he did the best thing he could in that moment and still help her feel comfortable and that was move.

By the time he stood up and started for the door, Beth was back, wiping her mouth with her hand. Her hair was still a long, untamed mass of pale waves, but she'd pushed most of it back. Some of it still framed her face, though, and Daryl thought that it made her look a little older, as did the look in her eyes. Gone was that sweet softness that had mourned the people they hadn't been able to save after the prison. The sweetness was there, but it had a finer edge to it, a sharpness that hadn't existed before. Maybe it was the gauntness, but her features were sharper too, more defined. He'd noticed it before in the woods, but now it was something that he was more focused on.

Which was why he gave her a wider berth than he might have when he stepped around her to go to the bathroom. He didn't say anything, carefully keeping his eyes ahead of him. He didn't doubt she noticed. Not much had escaped her before, and he knew that trait had likely only been honed since she'd been in Atlanta. It would have had to be.

When he came back out, his head was clearer. Water that felt like ice could do that and he'd splashed a damn good bit across his face. The hall was empty, as were both guestrooms when he peered into them, although Beth's boots were still where she must have left them when she went to bed the night before. Daryl strode up the narrow corridor, his shoulders brushing the walls on each side, and quickly descended the staircase, his footsteps muffled by the beige carpet. Beth was already in the kitchen and he paused in the archway that curved between it and the foyer where the staircase ended. She was staring at the refrigerator, her hand braced on the handle, but hadn't opened it yet. She was watching it like it was something dangerous, or like she was preparing herself to look into the jaws of something that might eat her. It made his mouth twitch.

Daryl came up behind her, making sure that his tread was loud enough that she'd know he was there. He didn't want to spook her, not when she was making even a little bit of progress. He reached over her arm and pulled, looking down at the side of her face.

"Ya want anythin' in particular?"

She hesitated for half a second, her expression uncertain before she schooled it and shrugged carelessly. But he'd seen enough. So, he nudged her to the side with his hip.

"Fine. I do."

He started pulling things out and setting them on the bar. Beth watched him for a brief moment before turning around and beginning to rummage through the cabinets as quietly as she could, but not before he caught the blossoming smile on her face out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know what he'd done to warrant it, but he found himself pretty much just pleased that he had. They worked around one another, falling into a pattern that wasn't much different than how they'd operated when they'd been on their own, a fluid, silent communication flowing between them. Maybe that should have made him uneasy again, but it didn't. And he wasn't going to question it, not right then. Later, maybe, but not right then.

Not when she was starting to smile a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all the support! I appreciate it more than I can say, and it's been wonderfully encouraging. :)


	9. Chapter 9

The deer sausage was good. She liked it a lot more than the grits, although they weren't bad if she dipped the sausage in it to give it more flavor. Eric was the first of the house's owners to wander in, scratching his head lightly as he crossed the room in pajamas and bare feet. Beth watched him quizzically. Who wore pajamas anymore?

Sheep was the first thing that came to mind, but she pushed that thought away, oddly irritated with herself for thinking it about the slender man. He didn't act like a sheep. He'd been nice. A little soft, maybe, but nice, and she didn't have any doubts that if something threatened Aaron, that would not be the case. The two of them hadn't spoken much about themselves last night, but she'd seen the glances they'd given to one another. Talking without talking. She'd known other people who could do that.

The thought caught her by surprise and she stiffened where she sat at the bar, her toes curling around a rung of the stool. Who? Who did she know like that?

_Twinkling blue eyes regarded her with mirth as two hands clasped, a gold band on the third finger of each._

Pain throbbed in the back of her skull and she had to let the question go. She focused instead on the sleepy-eyed redhead as he scooped his breakfast into a bowl, quietly chatting with Daryl, who stood at the sink with his hip braced against the counter. Eric turned his head to give her a smile.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Her cheeks heated as she lifted her hand to give him a little wave. She couldn't remember anyone having a pet name for her before. It was a weird combination of embarrassing and pleasing that puzzled her. Eric slipped around the bar and sat down, one stool between them and she wasn't sure if it was because he felt she needed the space or if he did. Either way, she was grateful. Aside from Daryl, she really,  _really_ didn't care for someone being in close proximity to her, even if that person was nice.

"Daryl's spoken fondly of you," Eric said with that gentle smile, his eyes warm as they slid to the man at the sink. "He said you were the toughest woman he'd ever met. High praise, I think." His gaze came back to her, flickering over her face until it landed on her forehead, adding softly, "Even more so now."

It was a fight not to put her hand up and cover the scar there, and that was strange to her. She had no reason to be self-conscious. It was another 'why' question, and as she had with several previous ones, she tucked it away. Externally, she just nodded and made a small humming sound of agreement. She was tough. It was a fact, even if Daryl hadn't said so. To survive as long as she had, to survive the...wrongness that had left her marked in more than one way, well, anyone would have to be tough.

But his comment also brought to mind other questions, some of them out of curiosity and some of them rooted in something else that she couldn't define. He knew her. He knew her before she was wrong. And he knew her now. Even if it had only been a day, he'd reacted to her as if they had the same silent language that Aaron and Eric had, or something pretty similar. It was like he knew without asking what she was thinking, or not thinking. She wanted to ask him what he'd told the other two men because it was information about herself that she likely didn't know. Not in the way someone would spill your secrets, but little things that he might have shared with them.

As soon as the thought occurred to her, she glanced at him. When she did, she felt that he probably hadn't said much else to them. Fondness can bleed into tone as easily as it can be stated.

She didn't get a chance to think anymore on it, a fierce knocking on the front door scattering her thoughts and making her leap to her feet, her hand flying to the hilt of her knife. Daryl was beside her in a heartbeat, his hand covering her shoulder and squeezing as Eric slid off his stool to stand.

"Daryl, I know you've got Beth in there!"

It was a woman's voice, the one from yesterday, but it was harsh and almost shrill with panic and anger. Not a direct threat, not yet, too much emotion. She eased her hand away and straightened, let the tension flow from her shoulders. She looked up at the tall man beside her and he met her gaze. Uncertainty and irritation flickered in his eyes, making the blue brighten. He was unsettled and for that to happen, something bad was about to walk through the door.

But he didn't want her handling her weapon, so she let her hand fall completely to her side. As soon as she did the tall brunette she'd seen yesterday came barreling into the room, her green eyes wide. A shorter, dark-haired man was on her heels. They flew to her face and she saw a mixture of emotions pass through them, but primarily, she saw relief. But before she or anyone else could react, the woman had run across the room and thrown her arms around her.

"Beth!"

She stiffened, frozen to the spot as something wet and warm slid down her neck where the other woman had buried her face. A hand came up and touched her hair, close to her wound and it made her jump into motion.

Panic, clear and sharp sliced into her belly and made it clench tight, made her muscles react faster as fear twined with the anxiety. Something was screaming inside her, snapping like teeth at her muscles and demanding she move! There was no logic to it, no reasoning, and some small, distant part of her liked that, liked that there was no questions, nothing but a pure, gut-deep instinct to survive.

Threatened. She felt threatened.

The next couple of seconds were a blur. Somewhere in the back of her skull a faint voice reminded her that Daryl hadn't wanted her to use her knife.

In a blur of motion, her hands snapped up and gripped the woman's arms tight enough to bruise. Snarling, she pulled the woman away from her body, her bare foot sliding out. With a jerky movement, she swept the woman's boots out from under her and twisted, using the momentum to slam her into the floor. Adrenaline made her fast, combined with the other woman's shock so that there was no resistance as she straddled her stomach, the air forced from the woman's lungs by the impact. Her hand came down around the woman's throat, not tight enough to choke, but just on this edge of pain so that she'd know not to move. With her knees, she pressed down all of her slight weight into pinning the brunette's arms at her sides.

The woman's hands came up to claw around her forearm, but she growled and flexed her fingers, her hair flowing around them like a wind-tossed curtain as she leaned forward. The woman under her went rigid.

"Bethy," she said breathlessly, almost a sob, tears shining unshed in her eyes as she searched her face. "Please, Bethy, it's me, it's Maggie. You know me!"

That last statement was louder than the others, desperate as if speaking it made it true, and reflexively, Beth tightened her hold on her throat again in warning.

"No, she don't," Daryl said sharply behind them. "She really don't. Don't hardly remember nuthin', I told ya tha' yesterday, Maggie. We came here so tha' she'd get the space t'maybe get tha' back."

Beth didn't take her eyes off the woman under her, but she still paid attention to the sound of movement behind her, and Daryl's rough voice saying quietly, "Glenn, don't. She won't hurt her s'long as she doesn't try tha' again."

Then Daryl was next to her, crouching down so that he was eye level with her cheek. She glanced at him and his expression was a silent question.

_Ya gonna back me on this?_

Wordlessly, she nodded as she released her hold on the other woman and eased up to her feet. She backed up a couple of steps and let the dark-haired man move past her. Daryl was next to her, his arm brushing hers. The woman, Maggie, coughed and rubbed at her throat, her eyes wide and, in Beth's opinion, a little glazed, like she was in shock. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she did. As much tension as was in the room, she figured that it was best to just let the how go.

That was when she noticed Aaron and Eric standing in the archway to their kitchen. Eric looked timid, but Aaron was impassively watching the couple on the floor. She realized then that he was about as open with his emotions as Daryl was, which wasn't necessarily was a bad thing. She thought that she might not have been before, but she felt that she was that way now too, to a certain extent. It'd made survival outside easier, so she wasn't going to complain. Apparently, it unnerved other people though.

"Beth," Maggie called her name and reluctantly, she looked down at her. Green eyes pleaded with her. "You know me."

She kept insisting that, but Beth honestly couldn't tell if she did or not. Was there something familiar about her? Yes. Did she know her? No, she didn't think so. With a furrowed brow, she turned to look up at Daryl questioningly. He glanced down at her and shrugged, his face shuttered carefully.

"She ain't lyin'."

Beth nodded. That was good enough for her. She was half-tempted to ask herself why, to poke at it, but she didn't. No more 'why's, she told herself stubbornly. She watched Glenn help Maggie up. She was openly crying now and his hand was rubbing soothing circles on her back. The tears didn't stop, but something hardened a little as her gaze flicked to Daryl.

"You were tryin' t'protect me from this," she said, her voice flat.

Daryl didn't even blink. "Ya don't need tha' from me, Maggie."

Her mouth curved a little and Beth thought that, even with her eyes red-rimmed, it made her look prettier. "Protect Beth, then."

He shifted next to her. "She don't need tha' from me neither."

There was a flash of doubt in her gaze that made Beth want to growl, so she crossed her arms beneath her breasts tightly. It helped soothe the urge. Maggie looked at her when she did and Beth saw a lot of things, but what made her feel even more on edge was what she didn't see.

Glenn's voice distracted her. "But you think with time and space, she'll come ba- she'll remember?"

He'd been about to say something else, and Beth's eyes narrowed. She didn't like how they were talking about her like she wasn't there, but without vocalizing it, there wasn't much she could do.

"I don't know, but after what just happened, don't you think tha' she needs t'get her head on straight?"

A part of her wanted to argue that her head was on straight. But she knew that wasn't true. The scars on her head, the hair that hung uncombed almost to her waist; those things were proof that something was wrong.

She watched Glenn nod slowly, then look at Maggie. Hers was slower to come, but she dipped her head all the same. Then she glanced towards the archway, her cheeks coloring. Her accent thickened with emotion. "I'm sorry for comin' into yer home without permission."

The smile Eric gave her was sympathetic. "Don't worry about it."

There really wasn't much else to say after that without things becoming more awkward. Aaron escorted the other couple to the front of the house. Daryl looked down at Beth, his shoulder bumping against hers and his eyes quietly inquiring.

_You ok?_

She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't have been if he hadn't been there to pull her back. She wanted to thank him for that too. But she didn't have the words. So she just nodded to him, reaching out to take his hand in hers and linked their fingers together. She gave them a squeeze, hoping he'd understand. A smile blossomed when his thumb brushed her knuckles as he squeezed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos for the last chapter! Holy cow, I can't even describe how awesome it was to wake up today and see all of them in my inbox. Please, please keep them coming,it's so inspiring! :)
> 
> I'm so glad that so many people are enjoying 'Feral', because it's a treat to write!


	10. Chapter 10

The day had gone a damn sight smoother after Maggie left. Hell, the next couple of days had been smoother. No one else had tried to come looking for Beth. To be frank, Daryl was just relieved that it hadn't gone any worse. She hadn't given either him or Beth time to react; just ran up and crushed her sister to her in a death-grip. Up until Beth had put her on the floor, Maggie had just seen what she'd wanted to see. Even afterward, Daryl wasn't entirely sure that she'd accepted what Beth's circumstances were.

They were all on the back patio of the house, Aaron sitting quietly reading a book in one of the deck chairs while Beth sat cross-legged between Eric's knees as he leaned forward in the other. Daryl let his leg swing a bit where he'd perched on the porch railing, his back braced against a post. He fiddled with the cams on his crossbow, tightening the string and looping it back with a practiced motion. He watched Beth's features carefully as Eric gently pulled his fingers through her hair, trying to untangle some of the more stubborn knots. She'd flat out refused to let him use a brush, pain flashing raw and harsh through her eyes when he'd suggested it, so they'd compromised. She'd been doing that a lot with the redhead, even more than she did with him. The man had a way with her and Daryl wasn't about to rock that boat. She was always quiet, but there was a quiet in her body language now, like a tension had eased, and he didn't want to jinx it.

He glanced at her.

He could understand Maggie's need to touch Beth, to make sure she was real and solid and honest-to-God  _there_ ; he hadn't been any different when he'd found her. He could even understand that it was probably even more deeply ingrained. But what made his skin prickle uncomfortably had been the absolute desperation that Beth knew her. In more than one way, it'd pissed him off, because Maggie wasn't the type of person to lose her composure like that, not even when she was raging. If anything, she got colder. Maggie was a fighter, pure and simple, and while she might not have been born to it, she took to strategic fighting. She was damn good at it. So something mighty fuckin' powerful had to have been driving her to act that way, and as far as he knew, there was just the one thing: guilt.

And that he could understand too. Since Atlanta, hell, since the prison, it'd been his fucking best friend, hollowing out his gut and leaving him cold. Beth had eased a lot of that, but there wasn't much that could have taken it away from him completely. Still, it didn't direct him. He wasn't anyone or anything's bitch. But guilt had clearly made Maggie its bitch, and that concerned him.

Shit was tense in the zone, had been for a while. Aside from Aaron and Eric, Daryl didn't consider the people here even remotely close to the family he'd come in with. But other people in his family did, so they mattered. But too many of them were divided in their thinking. Rick and Carol had hit a stride of ruthlessness that was practical, but unsettling. Two years ago, he'd have been right there with them, but now…

He glanced at Beth again, her features set in an almost serene expression.

_There are still good people, Daryl._

Those words had haunted him for months, burrowed into his skull so deep that he wouldn't have been surprised if they'd burned themselves into the bone. She'd believed that; she'd believed it with her whole heart, but he hadn't. Not then. He'd started to, until the moment he'd lost her. He tried. God knew he  _tried_ to believe it afterward. Aaron and Eric had helped a lot with that, which was one of the reasons that he didn't fully agree with Rick. Others, like Maggie and Glenn, and Michonne, truly wanted this place to work out, wanted a place that they could finally, permanently call home. They felt like they needed it. And that put them in a category of brutality that Daryl couldn't entirely make sense of. It was almost passive, but intense too. Michonne especially stalked up and down the streets like a panther, her eyes skating down every street with a possessive hunger.

They wanted to belong so badly.

Even Carol, he thought, for all her talk about it being a front.

Eric fluffed Beth's hair with a bright smile as she sat silently, her hands in her lap. "I wish I had a mane like this, sunshine. Maybe not as long, but I'd love to have the thickness. Will you let me play with it again sometime? My mom was a beautician, she'd have killed for a chance at it."

He watched Beth's mouth quirk up crookedly as she nodded, making a low, agreeable sound in her throat that arguably could have been labeled a purr. Eric beamed down at her. "You're a doll, you know that?"

Her cheeks flushed and Daryl fought to keep his own mouth from twitching. She just looked so...he didn't have a word for it. Not happy. There was too much lurking behind her eyes for that. Content, maybe.

Aaron glanced up from his book with a teasing grin, although there was something wistful about it at the edges. "You should have gone into business with her like she wanted."

Eric snorted, his face sobering. "What, and perpetuate the stereotype? Please."

"You enjoyed it," his lover reminded him gently.

The redhead didn't argue, just continued to comb his fingers through Beth's wavy strands. Aaron then turned his attention to Daryl. "How do you feel about going on a trip soon?"

That was what he called their recruiting missions. It wasn't a full-time gig for either of them, maybe twice a month, but it was important. They needed willing hands and strong backs. People here lived about as normal a life as a person could anymore, and in Daryl's opinion, it was disturbingly close to how more people had lived before. That meant that many of them, while decent folks, hadn't really worked a day of manual labor in their lives. They could be taught how to plow, could even be left alone to actually work the hand-made ones they'd cobbled together, but it still meant that they needed more people. What you lacked in experience, you could make up for in numbers, to a certain point.

But it was tricky. A person could look damn good from a distance. Most survivors do; strong, hardened, and tired. On the one hand, those were things that could be used to bring them into the community. On the other hand, it was deceptive. So far, he and Aaron had done good in picking out all-around good people.

_So you do think there are still good people around._

His eyes cut towards Beth as he considered the other man's question. "I'm thinkin' it's gonna be a longer trip this time." He glanced back at Aaron. "Likely gonna have t'start lookin' further out."

Aaron let his book slip shut with a frown. "You thinkin' south again?"

Daryl resisted the urge to look at Beth. She'd been almost the entire reason he'd ever wanted to go south, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit out loud. He shook his head as he threaded the bow string through his fingers.

"Naw, thinkin' west. Push out into the mountains, see what we see. Might be some groups holed up out thataway."

"Higher ground and all that."

"Somethin' like tha', yeah."

Aaron tapped a finger against the spine of his book thoughtfully. "Makes sense."

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail for a long minute, thinking. He'd been wanting to bring this up for a day or two, but he hadn't been sure how to go about it. Beth had been doing pretty damn good, considering, but he could tell that she was itchy. She'd started fidgeting the day after Maggie'd burst in, twitchy, like she was restless. She needed to stretch her legs, get some of that energy out, but he didn't think roaming the zone was gonna be good for her. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. If he was comfortable, she'd be too; no harm, no foul.

And that was the problem; he wasn't comfortable. Not threatened, just didn't sit easily in his skin on their little suburban island.

Aw, shit, just ball up and say it, Merle's voice sneered from the back of his head. Quit bein' a pussy.

Daryl ticked his chin towards the deck chairs. "Was thinkin' we bring Beth with us this run."

He didn't give his reasoning, but then, he didn't feel he had too. Aaron was good at a lot more than most people would think at first glance, which was part of the reason he was a damn good recruiter. People underestimated him, but he rarely made the same mistake. He never took anything at face value. He heard ya, but he was listening to what you weren't saying too.

Beth, for her part, had instantly turned her head towards him, her eyes widening a fraction with what he thought was anticipation. She looked suddenly eager and even from across the deck, he could almost see her body quivering. He had to fight his mouth twitching again.

Aaron's lips pursed as his head canted, his eyes searching Daryl's features. It took less than a minute before he was dipping his head. "You're thinking of having her be our third recruiter."

Daryl didn't answer right away. Mostly, he just didn't want to have her out of his sight, not for a while yet. Not until she was more at ease around other people. She was fine with Eric and Aaron, but he thought that might be because he was there too. They'd only had one bad incident in the week they'd been staying here, the night after Maggie, and that was because she woke up in the middle of the night without him next to her. It'd taken almost half an hour of him just talking quietly to her to get her out of the corner she'd backed herself into, the white showing around her irises, wild and rolling. He didn't let her sleep alone after that.

Maybe when she got better about that and started really talking again, then yeah, he'd back her for a recruiter. Beth'd been better at knowing people than he ever had. Hell, she'd been the one to really show him that there was more than varying degrees of bad.

Daryl looked at her again and she met his gaze, a sparkle in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. She was nibbling on the corner of her bottom lip, like a kid that someone had told that there was a good chance she was about to get ice cream if she'd just hold still for a couple more minutes. He'd never been one of those kids, but he knew that look. Excitement, borderline happiness, but a fierceness too. Considering what he was volunteering her for, he wasn't sure how to feel about it. She knew as well as he did what was out there, and she was thrilled at even a chance to run headlong into it.

But he knew that look would turn into a full-blown smile as soon as he nodded. Did that make him a bad guy? Didn't make him a good one.

So what _did_ it make him?

Not a question that he wanted, or felt ready, to answer.

So he shrugged. "I think if shit don't hit the fan, then yeah, I'd vote for her."

Maybe it wasn't right. But did he give a damn when she was grinning at him like that, all pale sunshine and warmth?

No sir, he did not give a teetotal damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say, "HOLY CRAP!" to the response for the last chapter? *Squee!* Oh my gosh, you guys are just so amazingly supportive! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you for the comments, and the kudos, and for reading this story! For everything, you guys rock!! :D


	11. Chapter 11

Beth was up well before sunrise. The streetlight outside the window was still the only illumination for this part of the house.

As quietly as she could, Beth slipped from the bed she had begun to share with Daryl. It baffled her why he would insist that they go to sleep on opposite sides, knowing full well that she'd burrow into him at some point in the night. Maybe it made him more comfortable to think that there was some sort of distance between them, but if that was true, she didn't understand it. Close was warm and safe, two things that were extremely important in her way of thinking. In this case, she found  _his_ thinking to be odd.

He stirred as soon as her weight left the mattress, blearily cracking open one eye to stare at her reproachfully. His voice was raspy as he said, "Ain't time t'get up yet."

Beth shook her head at him, her shoulder lifting in a careless gesture. She couldn't sleep anymore. Her head had been spinning with excited thoughts since the day before. Just contemplating the chance to get outside the house, to get outside the  _walls_ , was almost too much for her to contain.

His lips twitched. "You tha' excited?"

She gave him a flat look and he chuckled, the sound low and warm. It made her own mouth tilt upwards. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he breathed out, "Aright, aright."

She couldn't contain it, her smile blooming as she nodded. Turning, she quickly crossed the room to the open door and made the left turn towards the bathroom. Within minutes, she'd brushed her teeth and tamed her hair into a high ponytail, although wisps stubbornly hung around her face. Then she ducked into her room long enough to change clothes, trading out her soft cotton pants and t-shirt for a pair of jeans that'd seen better days and a plain grey sweater. She grabbed her boots from the hallway, hopping precariously on one foot as she tugged them on while trying to keep her forward momentum.

As quietly as she could manage, she moved into the kitchen and rummaged for something quick to wolf down. She settled for cold broth left over from the soup they'd had the night before, drinking from the edge of the bowl with a grimace. The stuff tasted terrible, but it was thick and would probably stick to her ribs better than other things. Daryl trudged in as she set the bowl in the sink and she turned to look at him, wiping her hands on the hem of the sweater.

He abruptly stopped when he caught sight of her, his eyes flicking over her face before settling on her hair. The expression on his face made her freeze, suddenly wary. He looked pained as if someone had driven their fist into his gut. Before she could even cant her head to indicate a question, though, his brows drew together and he scowled, stalking to the fridge. He hardly looked inside, just grabbed a container then slammed the door shut, hard enough to make the crockery in the cabinet next to it rattle.

"C'mon," he said gruffly, opening the container, stuffing some of the dried jerky inside into his mouth before dropping the plastic tin on the table and snatching up the backpack Aaron had packed the night before. He tossed it to her over his shoulder without breaking stride. "We got time t'do a wall check."

She caught it and hurried after him, flicking off the light with a frown as she went. She couldn't identify what was in his tone, and it bothered her.

No one seemed to be in the habit of locking their doors here, but she did it anyway. Where she'd picked it up, she didn't know, but it seemed smarter to indulge the urge instead of ignoring it. Things looked safe here, but she didn't trust it. It was too good to be true. That was the phrase she'd attributed to the zone after the last week. She hadn't gone further than Aaron and Eric's backyard since they'd started staying there, but what little of it she had seen had made her hair stand on end.

It was so deceptively quiet here. Not absolute quiet, but the more mundane kind. She thought about the sounds she'd picked up on drifting over the walls the week before. In a different time, they would have been normal, even pleasant.

Not so much now.

Beth lengthened her stride so that she could keep pace with Daryl's long legs as he set a pace that ate pavement. The streetlights cast deep, writhing shadows between the rows of houses on each side of the street, and she felt grateful that it was too early for anyone to be up yet. She caught up enough that she could walk beside Daryl, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. The muscle in his jaw was set tight, his eyes focused straight ahead as he loped, almost trotted up the street and his grip on the strap of his crossbow across his chest was white-knuckled. He looked to be thinking or maybe trying not to think, his features set in a mask of concentration that she couldn't entirely read. That bothered her more than what he'd said, and she wasn't even sure what it was about either tone or expression that did it.

She wanted to push, but the words that she needed wouldn't come to her, so she was forced to leave it be. Perhaps that was best, but it didn't feel like it. She wished that he'd look at her so that she could get a better idea of what was going on in his head, but he didn't, not even when they reached the gate. No guards were posted and that bugged her too. She thought it probably irked the man beside her as well, his scowl deepening as he curled his hands around the bars and dragged the gate open just wide enough to slip through with a noisy clanging. He jerked his head and she unsheathed the knife at her belt as she slid through the narrow opening, keeping her back to the metal edge of the wall.

She peered around the gate, saw nothing. She turned her head to check behind her. Nothing. She nodded to Daryl and moved to stand on the other side as he angled his body through and shut the gate back behind them. Beth bit back a derisive snort; they didn't even lock the damn thing.

Sheep.

Wordlessly, she fell into step behind him, her eyes drifting between his broad back, the trees and the darkened ruins of the town outside the walls. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her thigh as she walked, her knife held firmly in the other hand. It was a simple beat that she vaguely recalled from somewhere before her head was wrong. Daryl might have known it, or maybe it aggravated him, shooting her a glare over his shoulder as he unslung his crossbow. She paused the rhythm, watching him as he watched her for the span of a heartbeat before that troubled look crossed his features and he turned around again.

The tip of her ponytail swayed against her back as she frowned at him, her eyes sliding away in an automatic check of their surroundings. He stopped them just long enough to load the weapon, the muscles in his arms bunching as he pulled back the string. Beth felt her own irritation spike, and she resumed her tapping. When he glanced back at her again, she gave him a pointed look, almost challenging. She saw his mouth press into a thin line, his eyes narrowing at her. She half hoped that he'd say something, give her an excuse to let out some of the tension that had been building in her gut since the house.

But he just continued to walk, keeping his shoulder just brushing against the wall and leaving her with a steadily growing sense of discontent. Beth didn't like feeling as though there was something between them that she couldn't ask about. She tried to push it away, lock it in that dark part of her head, which was easier than she might have initially suspected that it might be. She was still bothered, but she could compartmentalize it for later.

The sky was lightening as they circled the perimeter, bathing the world in that strange, pre-dawn grey that filled the empty spaces the shadows left behind. Aside from a startled flock of birds, nothing stirred. That was probably a good thing, but for Beth, it was a less than perfect start to the day. By the time they came back around to the gate, she was itching for something to happen. The silence between them was uncomfortable, felt loaded with something that she couldn't understand, which frustrated her. She wanted so badly to ask what was wrong, but figuring out how was like trying to pull a root that was too firmly embedded in the earth.

Daryl paused at the gate. "One more time 'round, make sure ain't nuthin'," he said quietly.

He didn't look at her as he said it, and that was what prompted her to make the step that separated them, coming around his shoulder so that she could see his face.

"Daryl."

She didn't know what else to say, how else to convey what she was thinking, but she hoped that he understood. He winced, clearly hearing something in the way she softly spoke his name that she didn't, or couldn't. He started to brush past her, but she caught his arm, her fingers tightly curling against the sleeve of his jacket.

"Daryl," she said again, more forcefully, willing him to look at her. He didn't, not even when she said his name a third time.

The exasperation swelled inside her, making her want to stomp her foot or yell, or something, anything to alleviate the tightness in her middle, but she could think of nothing that felt right. He had to talk to her. He had to. But he wasn't, and when he still wouldn't look at her, she couldn't do anything but growl and let him go. She turned on her heel, vexed at her inability to either communicate or convince him to do so. She started to walk away and follow the wall around again.

"Beth." Something in his tone brought her up short. She stopped and half-turned to look back at him, her hand coiled tightly around the hilt of her knife.

To her disappointment, he was watching down the road that led away from the gate, as if he was being careful not to meet her gaze. It pissed her off. She made another low sound in her throat and sheathed her knife before crossing the slight distance between them. She must have surprised him because he started when her palms suddenly cupped his face and brought him around so that he was staring down at her. She stood so close to him that the upper portion of the crossbow was digging into her belly, but she ignored it.

"Talk," she said roughly, glaring up at him.

She felt the muscles in his neck work under the sides of her hands as he swallowed hard, eyes searching hers for a long moment. She resisted the urge to shake him and waited as patiently as she could. He seemed to be groping for words, a task she empathized with, and that helped loosen that knot in her gut.

Finally, he mumbled, "It's stupid."

Beth frowned at him, letting her confusion show on her features and Daryl took a deep breath and let it out like he was gearing himself for a fight. She felt the crossbow slip away from her body and it fell away from between them, to his side. Then she saw his hand come up. Slowly, carefully, he reached out until his fingers touched the pale strands that fell against the curve of her jaw.

"Yer hair," he muttered. "Yer hair up like tha'...looks like it did before."

She wanted to ask what he meant, but the lack of words on her part and the expression on his face made her keep her peace. Daryl twined the strand around his finger as his eyes grew distant. He looked hurt, and a little lost, in a memory that she felt like she should remember too, but couldn't. Unconsciously, she stroked her fingers along the sharp angle of his jaw, and the gesture seemed to bring him back. Hesitantly, like he was afraid that the movement might spook her, he touched the pad of his thumb against her cheek, tracing the curve of it. He smoothed over the slender scar just beneath her eye. When she didn't pull away, he repeated the motion, watching her with an intensity that she didn't recognize.

Beth felt her heartbeat quicken, a tiny flare of heat following in the wake of his calloused fingertip across her skin. It made her breath hitch quietly in her throat. Maybe he caught the sound, his eyes darkening to a slightly deeper shade of blue under the artificial gate light. Her mouth felt dry and she flicked her tongue across her bottom lip reflexively. She felt Daryl lean a little closer, his thumb continuing to trail up and down, and she matched his movement. The air suddenly seemed charged, heavy with something that she couldn't name, but felt familiar, like an echo of a moment that she should recall.

_What changed your mind?_

Hadn't she asked him that once? She didn't know, didn't know if either of them had answered either, but she thought that it was important.

A sharp bang against the tin wall behind her made her jump back from him and spin around, her hand on her knife. She felt Daryl move into position just behind her, instinctively knowing that his crossbow was aimed just a little over her shoulder. A small fat creature with light-colored fur hissed at them before quickly waddling away, its bald tail upright and oddly indignant, as if they'd been the ones that'd interrupted its activities.

Daryl let out a low chuckle behind her, the sound warm and rough. "Damn possum."

Beth nodded with a small laugh of her own. Feeling the tension drain from her, she relaxed a little and turned back to him. With her lips still curved in a slight smile, she reached up and unbound her hair. It fell down her shoulders in messy waves. Daryl looked a bit surprised for half a second before he dipped his head in a short nod. She saw the tightness in his shoulders ease.

And without another word, she knew that things between them were alright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys so much for the continued support of 'Feral'! I'm sorry that this update took longer than usual, but I hope y'all enjoyed it! :)


	12. Chapter 12

It was cooler than it had been the week before, the temperature dropping just enough that Daryl could see his breath hang in the air as he pulled on a borrowed pair of leather gloves. They'd gone back to the house right at sun-up, Aaron and Eric already in the street and checking over the beat up Crown Vicky that was the taller man's vehicle of choice. Daryl's motorcycle was parked in front of it, his crossbow secured across the very back.

Aaron had lent Beth one of his denim jackets and it damn near swallowed her. Daryl's mouth twitched as he watched them stand beside the car, struggling to roll up the bulky sleeves just enough for her hands to peek out from under the thick material. Eric was hovering beside them like a clucking mother hen, running a hand through his ginger hair over and over again as his eyes flitted between his boyfriend's hands and his face. He'd never say it out loud, but it was evident that he hated Aaron going out of the zone without him. Eric understood, but he didn't like it.

Daryl couldn't blame him. His eyes slid over Beth's features as she scowled down at the stubborn sleeves. As much as he trusted her to take care of herself and him, it didn't diminish the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, settling like a block of ice. How easy was it to get cornered out there? He'd seen it happen. Something or someone backs you into a place where there's no way out, it doesn't matter how tough or smart you are. He knew too damn well that it only took a second, a blink, and she could get out in front of him where he couldn't watch her back. Or worse, where he only could just watch her back.

_His breathing, loud and harsh in his ears as he sprinted down the steps. He slowed down as he passed the tombstones outside the house, then sped up again as the sound of a revving engine roared across the yard._

" _Beth!"_

Daryl shook his head roughly to clear it, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face. Didn't do no good thinking about that night. Long as he was breathin', he'd do whatever the hell he had to so that it never happened again. The hard clip of boots on pavement made him turn. Rick was striding up the middle of the road, his hand braced on his hip, close to the pistol that he kept tucked into his belt. His gaze skittered back and forth over the houses on each side of the street too quickly to really take anything in. He looked jittery, one corner of his mouth constantly twitching, like he was striving to smile and the muscles didn't want to work right.

Daryl nodded to him when he got close, leaning a hip against the bike and his hand gripping the handlebar to keep it balanced.

"Michonne on the other side?" he asked him.

Rick nodded, one sharp jerk of his head. "Yeah. Quiet this mornin'."

Daryl snorted. "Always quiet."

"Naw, not always, but usually."

Daryl studied him for a long moment before grunting, "What?"

Rick rolled his shoulders. "Talked with Morgan again."

"Yeah?"

"He ain't too keen on comin' inside the walls."

Daryl frowned. "Then wha' the hell he come here for?"

Rick shrugged, his brow furrowing, but he didn't elaborate. Daryl didn't push, figuring that if it was something he needed to know, he would. Rick's eyes slid from his, falling on the petite blonde still wrangling with the too big coat and Daryl half-turned to watch her too. With her gloves clenched between her teeth, she growled at the zipper before yanking it up to her chin.

"She's ridin' with you?"

Daryl grunted again. "Yeah. She don' like bein' in the car."

A pained expression crossed Rick's features, one that Daryl didn't doubt had probably passed his own. They exchanged a glance, something dimming in the ex-sheriff's eyes. Daryl folded his arms across his chest, half-expecting him to say something, to remember, and was quietly relieved when he didn't. Instead, Rick reached out and clasped his shoulder.

"Y'all be careful out there."

They nodded to one another and he watched Rick pass Beth. Their eyes met, and Rick looked as though he wanted to speak, his stride slowing and Beth watched him with a wary look. But ultimately, he just nodded to her too and kept walking.

Eric and Aaron watched his retreating back then exchanged a silent look of their own. Beth seemed content to leave them to their wordless conversation, moving closer to Daryl. He snorted at her.

"You look ridiculous."

She really did. The jacket was thickly padded, so it rounded comically around her middle, making her legs look like toothpicks where they poked out from beneath the mid-thigh hem. Even folded back, the sleeves were still too long and the gloves she'd borrowed were clearly too big for her small hands. The collar had completely swallowed her chin and mouth, and her hair was a wind-swept mess around her shoulders and across what little was left visible of her face. He appreciated that she was wearing it loose again for him. Seeing it up like she'd had it that morning...it was still too strong a reminder of how close that bullet had actually come. A few pale strands fluttered across her nose in a cool breeze and his fingers itched to reach up and push them back for her. He tightened his grip on the bike to keep them from giving into the urge.

She blinked slowly at him, pulling his attention to her eyes, which now seemed way too large and luminous. Her brows rose, making her forehead wrinkle in an expression that seemed to say, "I know, so what?"

He shook his head slowly and pushed up from the bike just long enough to turn and sling his leg over the seat. Beth carefully did the same behind him, scooting until she was pressed as firmly as she could manage against his back. She wrapped her arms around his waist as best she could, trying to curl her fingers in her gloves.

"Ain't gon' have a good enough grip wearin' them," Daryl muttered, leaning back into her a little and tugging the heavy material off her hands. "Here."

He unbuttoned his vest and shifted his weight forward again, slipping her now bare fingers inside the leather. She adjusted behind him and he felt her palms warm against the dark plaid shirt he wore underneath.

"Aright?" he asked her and she hummed in affirmation. "Lean left a sec or I'm gonna bust yer eardrum." He felt her move, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade. "Aaron!" he called back, twisting so that he could see past her shoulder. "Kiss yer man, we're wastin' daylight!"

He felt Beth's body shake and he knew she was laughing. It made his own mouth quirk up slightly as the curly-haired man actually blushed a little. Eric cupped his cheek and brought him down for a quick kiss, his eyes gleaming with humor. Daryl couldn't make out what they were saying, but he didn't want to anyways. Privacy was a hard won thing here.

He turned back around and started the bike, walking it up a couple of feet as he waited for Aaron to start the car behind them. Beth's fingers tightened their grip on his shirt, like she was startled, but as they idled, he felt her start to relax again. When Eric walked by them, his smile a better mask than he probably knew, Daryl eased on the gas. The bike roared down the perfect blacktop towards the gate. His eyes narrowed, spotting Nick on gate duty. The only reason he didn't ask the jackass where he'd been earlier that morning was because he knew Rick and Michonne had already been up and walking the inside walls themselves. Neither of them trusted anyone here to keep a good perimeter, and apparently with damn good reason.

Nick's eyes, so pale a green that they almost seemed colorless, shifted nervously as they rolled up. He adjusted the strap of his rifle over his shoulder, licking his lips.

"Goin' out?" he asked, trying for a friendly tone that fell flat. He sounded more antsy than anything else.

Daryl didn't bother answering the inane question, just gestured to the tower. "Check with Sasha up there so we can get movin'."

Nick's face pinched, like he'd caught wind of something that smelled god awful. It was only the feel of Beth's arms tightening around his waist that kept the words from leaping out Daryl's mouth. She'd stiffened behind him, then let out a low sound that he barely heard over the bike's vibrating rumble. Good, he wasn't the only one that was pissed. Man was a waste of fuckin' air.

Nick had turned around by that point, though, waving up at the white-washed building. Something bright glinted from the window, flashing twice and he faced them again.

"All clear."

Daryl gave him a look that had the slighter man scurrying to roll the gate back. He felt Beth shift behind him and he could have sworn that he heard her chuckle. Her hand moved away from him for just a second and he twisted around just in time to see her pulling down the collar of the jacket, flashing her teeth in a smile at him that was wolfish. He shot her look that clearly said 'behave', but it probably wasn't all that convincing with the smirk that curved his mouth crookedly. As the road was opened up in front of them, she slid her hand back around him and he rolled the bike forward.

Nick cupped a hand around his mouth as they rode by. "Be careful out there!"

Daryl lifted a hand in acknowledgement before slapping it back down and gunning the engine. Beth held on tighter, the wind rushing past them and taking the warm sound of her laugh with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than usual, but it was at a good breaking point, so I'm not going to let my inner gremlin chastise me for it, lol. Next chapter will pick up the pace a bit, so look forward to that!
> 
> As always, I hope y'all enjoyed. :)


	13. Chapter 13

The road swung back and forth for miles ahead of them and she found that she loved it more than she'd initially thought she would. Morgan had insisted they travel on foot, leery of the noise and confined space of any cars they came across. She could never imagine him on the back of a bike. The motorcycle leaned into every curve and their bodies with it, making her stomach swoop. She leaned forward against Daryl's back eagerly, relishing the rush of cold wind on her cheeks and airy fingers tangling her hair behind her. She was tempted to fling her arms out more than once but always caught herself before the temptation swept her up. The sun burned through the early morning mist, leaving hardly more than grey wisps of cool droplets to catch in her lashes, lingering for little more than a heartbeat before she'd blink them away.

They rode for hours, pushing west out of what was once settled farmland and into the wilder, lonelier stretches of wooded highway. They could only go so far into the mountains before they hit the limit of their gas ration, although they might get lucky and find some cars with a little left in the tanks so they could extend their time by a day, possibly two. Daryl had said that he didn't plan for them to stay out for more than a week this time if he could help it. The sun arced overhead, weakly warming the air when they stopped in the middle of the road to stretch their legs and eat something, tough jerky, and water. It was hard to choke down past her giddiness, excited as she was to finally be outside the walls again.

Aaron chatted with her a little. Well, more like at her, and she'd nod along with him. He was easy to get along with, soft-spoken and personable, which she liked. He showed her how to check the car while they took their break, smiling at how quickly she picked up on it. It seemed familiar to her, like she'd done it before, but couldn't remember where. Trying to force the memory to the surface made her head throb, so she had to let it go and hope that one of these days it'd flow back. Her eyes had drifted to Daryl then, watching him as he hunkered down next to his bike, his hands running over the powerful engine.

It was like her mind was a broken eggshell, chips and bits scattered from one end of her mind to the other. Everything in her head was fragmented, pieces that didn't always fit together. Daryl was part of several of them, but not all - not even most. And yet, she felt certain that given time, he'd help her figure out how to put it all together again. Instinctively, Beth placed her fingers against the scar on her forehead, running her fingertips over the puckered skin.

_How many people had to risk their lives to save you?_

Daryl caught her eye as he pushed up and turned, giving her a look that seemed to silently point out that she was trying to think too much. Then he ticked his head towards the bike, tugging his gloves back on. "C'mon."

She dropped her hand and straightened from where she'd propped herself against the car, walking with quick strides. Daryl mounted the bike and she copied him, scooting herself forward and pressing against his back. Her hands slipped through the opening in his vest as she wrapped her arms around him. Then the road was falling away again underneath them, a faded grey blur interposed with stripes of butter yellow. She pressed her cheek against his back and let her eyes unfocus as she idly watched the miles slip by. The curves became hills, rolling up and off into the distance, maybe forever. She wouldn't have minded that.

It was dark before they stopped again, pulling onto an old logging road that snaked through a thick copse of slender pine trees. The dead needles crinkled under the bike's thick tires, under her boots when she lifted herself up using Daryl's broad shoulders as a brace. Aaron pulled in right behind them. He cut the engine and for a brief second there was nothing but the dark, their breathing and the crickets.

Aaron got out of the car and went around to the trunk, popping it and started to rummage. She walked towards him, accepting the bottle of water he handed to her. He smiled at her easily as he slung his rifle over his shoulder. She took a long pull then offered it to Daryl as he came to stand beside her. He grunted at her, his version of a thank you. When Aaron closed the trunk back, she turned and hopped up to sit on top of it, letting her legs dangle over the ground.

"Here," Aaron said, holding out a pair of gray woven fingerless gloves and a light blue beanie. "Wear these, the temperature likes to drop sudden up here."

She took them with a nod, pulling the beanie down tight over her wild blonde waves. Her ears were suddenly pleasantly warm, an observation that made her mouth curve just a little.

Daryl gestured to the trees on either side of them. "Scout through 'em tomorrow, but we outta set up a watch tonight." He looked at Beth, studying her face. She thought he might ask if she was up for it, but he didn't, just turned to Aaron and added, "Me and Beth'll take second, couple hours from now. Sound good?"

Aaron nodded. She scooted until her feet were on the edge of the trunk and leaned her back against the rear window of the car, folding her arms behind her head and staring up. The air tasted like pine and mint, cold and clear as she peered upwards through the gently swaying limbs. The stars were distant, tiny white drops in the deep black, but she still found herself admiring them like she had on many a night when she couldn't sleep and Morgan was on guard nearby. It wasn't a habit of comfort or solace, or even very soothing, but...it was quiet. She liked that - simple.

There was a bump on the car and she turned her head. Daryl was watching her, his crossbow in one hand and a sleeping bag gripped tight in the other.

"Move over."

She did, catching sight of Aaron's tall figure at the other end of the car, settling himself against the hood, his rifle across his lap. Daryl hefted himself up onto the trunk beside her, one leg hanging off the end and the other bent at the knee. He handed her the sleeping bag, falling back against the glass with a quiet groan. His head thunked dully on the window, his eyes closing and his lips parted as he let out a heavy breath. He let one hand dangle off his knee while the other rested on the crossbow he'd set on the other side of his hip.

She traced his face with her eyes, noting the tight lines around his mouth. He looked tired and stressed, but at the same time, as her gaze drifted down, she couldn't see any tension in his body; it was an odd visual juxtaposition. She knew he was still very awake, very aware, his fingers twitching a little when she shifted beside him.

His eyes opened again and his head lolled towards her, the bright blue muted in the dark. Silently, without thought or reason, other than she wanted to, Beth reached out from beneath the sleeping bag she'd draped over herself and tangled her fingers with his, tugging on them so that their arms now lay between them. His hand was cool in hers, rough and big, comfortable. Silently, she turned back to watching the stars, sometimes letting her eyes follow the trails of mist she breathed out between her lips. She felt his eyes on her for a long while, like he was studying her again, but the weight of them wasn't unpleasant. Idly, she traced the knuckle of his thumb with the pad of her own, felt her heart beat steady and strong as she laid back against the body-warmed window.

Sleep seemed a distant thing, and for the first time since she'd found Daryl, her mind was tranquil. She basked in it - warm, safe. The woods were hushed around them and the world felt as though it had narrowed until it was little more than a star-riddled bubble. A part of her disliked that feeling, felt that it made her soft, but a much larger part of her urged to enjoy it while it lasted.

Daryl's voice rumbled beside her. "Beth."

She turned to him with wide questioning eyes, feeling a shiver chase down his arm. Thinking he was cold, she moved towards him, lifting their hands so that her hip could fit next to his and juggled the sleeping bag so that it covered them both. Her other hand curled around his beneath the makeshift blanket, cradling it between her palms in her lap. Daryl sucked in a breath and she tilted her head back so that she could look at him.

"Daryl?" she asked softly, the wind brushing her hair over her shoulder so that it caught gently on a button of his jacket.

He stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes distant, like they had been that morning as if he both saw her and didn't. She slid the fingertips of her free hand over his, mapping the nicks and callouses and the motion seemed to draw him back fully to the present. He fumbled with his other hand at his belt before pulling it up and on top of their shared blanket, the knife he wore on that side between his fingers.

"Been meanin' t'give this back t'ya," he said. She brought her hand out, caressing the smooth ivory-colored hilt, and he continued, his voice rough and low. "I was jus'...hangin' onto it a lil while. Till I could."

Beth felt a lump form in her throat and didn't know why. This was...meaningful, but in what way, she didn't know. She ran her fingers down the tan sheathe. It had been a part of her once. She remembered that even if the details were fuzzy.

_"Thanks for the help," she said flippantly, blood cooling on her hand as she wiped the blade clean._

_Daryl gave her a flat, hard look. "You said you could take care of yourself. You did."_

"Schnapps," she murmured, the smell of moonshine and smoke a phantom fragrance in her nose, a hot taste on her tongue.

Daryl blinked down at her, looking puzzled. "What?"

Beth shook her head and lifted her head to meet his eyes again, searching for an answer that she wasn't sure she'd understand even if she found it. The things she wanted to say wouldn't come. She couldn't think of them, feeling touched in a way that was both warm and confusing. That 'why' question was threatening to form again, but she didn't want to answer it.

She let go of his hand and came up on her knees before slipping her arms under his and curling them around him. Her cheek came to rest against his chest, right over his heart and she could hear it beating hard and quick under his shirt. The knife fell under the sleeping bag and onto the trunk with a quiet thud, but she ignored it, blinking as her eyes stung. Things she didn't understand, feelings that she had forgotten she knew, were spiraling through her body and all she wanted right then was something to cling to. Daryl's arms came around her shoulders and he nudged her around until she was sitting in his lap, his knees coming up to her side. Beth started to shake and he lowered his head until the underside of his jaw touched her forehead. He didn't say anything and neither did she, hot wet trails smearing down her cheeks. It felt bad and good, like something she needed to do, but didn't know the reason for it. It mattered, or she thought it did. Maybe it didn't, but her head was so full and empty at the same time that she couldn't make heads or tails of it.

_It does matter._

Why? she finally let herself ask silently.

She didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, thank y'all so much for all the kudos and comments! I never thought this story would pick up so many readers, I'm blown away. :O
> 
> But thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so glad that you're enjoying 'Feral' and that you're responding to it! I love writing this story and I love hearing what you guys have to say about it! Best readers ever! :D


	14. Chapter 14

She didn't take back the knife.

His fingers itched to trace the worn leather sheath, but he kept his grip firmly on the handlebars of the bike. Beth was right behind him, hunkered down against his back as the motorcycle roared down the highway.

It'd taken her a while to fall asleep the night before, but when she had, it'd been the sleep of the exhausted. Hell, he'd felt drained and he hadn't been the one crying. Aside from cradling her while she let it out, he hadn't had the slightest idea what to do. But that seemed to have been all that she needed him to do. Still had no idea why the knife had triggered that reaction, but once she was done, she was better. She'd given him a trembling smile and curled into him like a cat that'd found its favorite patch of sunshine, and he hadn't been keen on dislodging her, not when she'd calmed down. They'd ended up sleeping like that, Daryl leaning back against the rear window and Beth in his lap, the sleeping bag over the both of them until Aaron prodded him awake again for their turn at watch.

He'd tried again when the sun came up, offering it back to her, but she'd shaken her head, taking it from him only long enough to walk around to his side and refasten it to his belt. She wanted it there, so that was where it was gonna stay.

It was mid-morning, sunshine dappling the road in big bright splashes. They'd scouted the woods around the makeshift camp at first light, but other than a couple of deer trails, there was nothing. No signs of human life, or the dead. Daryl didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He'd scoured the map they'd brought with them, re-checking their route. They were well outside of major cities and towns, reducing their chances of running into a herd, but there was always a risk. They may not have moved fast, but with enough numbers, and no need to stop, they could cover  _hundreds_ of miles. But that lower risk came with the added price of uncertainty. They couldn't be sure that anyone had made it out this far. They could return to the safe zone empty-handed, although it wasn't an entirely bad thing to check as much of the surrounding countryside as they could. It was better to know what may or may not be out there. Daryl's jaw clenched, narrowing his eyes at the rolling road ahead. They couldn't be blindsided again like they were at the prison.

Beth shifted a fraction behind him and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He agreed wholeheartedly with Glenn; they had to make Alexandria work. He glanced at the bike's side mirror, catching sight of streaming blonde strands. His heart clenched in his chest.

" _Beth, we gotta go!"_

_She turned to him, her eyes wide, too bright with tears she was refusing to let fall, but hard too, meeting his gaze determinedly, like she would argue._

_He silently pleaded with her to listen to him, reaching out to touch her arm with one hand as he shouldered his crossbow. "We gotta go."_

_The second between his saying it and her nod of agreement stretched into an eternity, fire and walkers steadily drawing closer to them before they turned tail and ran for the woods, leaving their home a smoking ruin behind them._

Daryl watched her peek her head around his shoulder, her eyes warm and sparkling as she let the wind whip against her face, so unlike the trembling woman he'd held last night. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, a smile tugging at her lips. That was the Beth he loved to see, a living, breathing ray of sunshine and  _goodness_. Her edges were harder now, tempered with her time with Morgan as her only companion, but that core part of her, what made her  _Beth_...that hadn't changed. You had to dig a little deeper to see it or catch her in a moment like this, but it was there. It'd take time, but he knew eventually she'd settle into the safe zone. It was the home she wouldn't stop talking about when they were out there on their own, the one that she had hoped they'd find. The one they might have had in Georgia if things had been different.

She caught his eyes in the mirror and gave into the smile, eager and bubbly without ever saying a word, and he felt his heartbeat speed up. Christ, that smile was like a fucking sugar-rush, a sweet jitteriness curling in his belly. It made his own mouth twitch in response, even curl up in an answering half smirk. He'd do whatever he had to do to keep her smiling like that. She deserved it. She deserved every goddamned shred of happiness and light he could scrape out of the hellhole they lived in.

He turned his gaze back to the road.

Whatever he had to do.

The highway became a steady rise, curving around the first of the mountains and revealing gorgeous views of the foothills behind them. On the other side was a valley, at the top of which, Daryl pulled off the road, into what was once a tourist parking lot. Aaron was right behind him with the car as they left the pavement and tucked the vehicles well into the trees. The bike lowered, then lifted as Beth dismounted while he cut the engine.

Aaron got out and they gathered around the hood of the Crown Vick, Daryl pulling the map out of the motorcycle's saddlebag as he went. He spread it over the hood, Beth holding down one corner and Aaron the other. He tapped his fingertip against a small black spot.

"Little place called Picksville at the bottom of this here ridge," he told them quietly. "Figure it's as good a spot as any t'start lookin'. Place was a nice lil rustic spot, 'cordin t'Harley."

Harley was a soft-spoken older man with a full white beard that reached his rounded belly and a thinly braided ponytail dangling down his broad back. He'd been in Alexandria almost since the beginning, but originally, he'd come from an even smaller town further up in the mountains. It was him who'd gotten the idea in Daryl's head to try this far west. Picksville had been a fairly well-known spot for vacationers looking for that hillbilly flavor of nostalgic Americana. Harley had told him that lots of folks had built cabins all through the mountains, and that last he'd heard from anyone there, almost two years ago, many of the locals were thinking of retreating up to the more remote ones on the other side of the valley.

Aaron angled his head down at the map. "Might be some things we can take back with us too if that's the case. Probably a fair number of stores people wouldn't have thought to raid. Clothes, blankets, books…"

"Depends on if we find anybody worth bringin' home," Daryl replied, bracing his boot on the fender. "Mostly, we're just scoutin', though. Seein' what we see." He jerked his chin at the car. "We'll keep 'em parked here, for now, go in quiet-like. Bring what we can fit in a couple backpacks." He tapped the map again, a bit north of Picksville's dot. "Creek runnin' through here can fill up on water if we gotta. Hunt when we run outta the rest."

He looked up at Beth as he spoke and the faith he saw in her features made his stomach flip in a weird way, reminded of just how much she trusted him. It was implicit, complete, and he didn't exactly know what he'd done to deserve it if anything. How many times had he let her down, before  _and_ after the prison? How many times had he failed to keep her or their family safe? Too many damn times in his opinion. They had no idea what was waiting for them down there. Anything, anyone, just itching to rip her throat out, or put her back in the twisted servitude that Noah had explained went on in Grady.

But here she was, again, right in his corner, agreeing to go into a potential death trap, or worse, on his word alone. Maybe it should have grounded him, made him more resolute, but right at that moment, staring into her calm, cornflower irises, Daryl felt unsettled. Beth'd thrown him hard and he was still trying to find his feet again. Somewhere, something had shifted on him and he didn't know when it'd happened. Last night? The way she'd held on to him, huddling her slight frame against his chest; it had felt a lot like that day at the moonshine shack, except reversed, where he was the one holding her and they were sharing something he didn't have a name for. Somehow, he'd ripped something open inside her by offering that knife. The door had been flung wide and instead of trying to close it again, she'd left it dangling on its hinges and whatever it'd been concealing had rushed out. She'd been overwhelmed, that was obvious, and needed something to hang on to as whatever it was that she'd been feeling poured out of her in hot wet trails that soaked his shirt and made his chest tighten painfully for her.

Daryl slid his gaze from hers to Aaron, who nodded to him and he straightened. "Aright."

They released the map and Daryl scooped it up, folding it and tucking it into his shirt pocket as the other two moved to the trunk. Aaron popped it open and grabbed two black backpacks, unzipping them. Beth held them open while he sorted through the supplies they'd brought, neatly dividing what he thought they'd need between the two. Daryl left them to it, unstrapping his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder while he also bent to retrieve a pair of binoculars from the saddlebag. He caught Beth looking at him questioningly and he just pointed out towards the parking lot. She nodded and turned back to the trunk, her long blonde hair swinging against her back.

He watched her for a beat longer, a warm sensation tickling his belly for a brief second before he roughly shoved it away and started striding through the trees. The lot was deserted, aside from the swirling flurry of leaves and dead pine needles that blew across the cracked asphalt. A sidewalk lined a low stone wall along the left edge, across from the road, where people had probably once stood to take pictures over the valley. Picksville was a distant set of buildings below, surrounded by trees turned every shade of red and yellow imaginable by the late season.

Daryl walked to the edge and lifted the binoculars to his eyes, squinting and wishing like hell for a pair of sunglasses. At first, he didn't see anything much, aside from the deliberately aged brick and wood structures that made up the tiny town. He held in a snort as he spotted dream catchers still fluttering in the wind off wide wooden porches, carved knickknacks still in the store windows. Why the hell people had bought that crap was beyond him. Made no fucking sense to spend money on shit that wasn't even the real deal. No old timers had rocked on their back porch, whittling little bear statues. They'd been working their asses off same as everyone else trying to scrape out a living in what was less than hospitable territory.

He heard footsteps behind him but ignored them as he swept the binoculars left, seeking out any sign of movement when something captured his attention. With a low whistle, he lowered the binoculars and handed them to the petite blonde that had come to stand at his elbow.

"Looks like somebody's home."

"People?" Aaron asked from his other side.

"Walkers."

"How many?"

Daryl rolled his shoulders. "Enough." He ignored the other man's heavy exhale, looking towards Beth as she dropped the binoculars from her eyes and handed them back to him. "Well?"

The expression on her face was blank, but there was a glint in her eyes that was almost predatory, her body language deceptively languid as she started walking, adjusting the straps of the backpack over her shoulders. Daryl could almost hear her thinking, figuring out which way the wind was blowing, the best approach to take, calculating how many and where they'd hole up...hunting.

And he'd have bitten his own tongue clean in two before admitting, even to himself, that for a minute there, he'd been thinking  _that's my girl._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter! Thank you guys so much for all the kind words and encouragement, I'm so glad you're all enjoying 'Feral'! Please keep them coming, you guys are so unbelievably awesome! :D


	15. Chapter 15

The road sloped down almost straight down into the small town. Parking lots, empty and desolate, lined each side. Beth didn't like them. There was nowhere to take cover, no place to hide their progress. They stayed off the pavement, descending through the thick brown grass on the shoulder, the dead blades crunched softly under her boots. Although they'd seen no sign of anyone living, that didn't mean they weren't down there. It gave her a sense of unease, but it was a feeling that she pushed to the side.

The lots continued right up to the hewn sign that welcomed people to the edge of town. On either side of it, the road opened, then narrowed, flanked by rows of one-story shops and restaurants. A couple of walkers were staggering on the main street, their feet shuffling towards them, attracted by their movements. Daryl easily shot a bolt through the first one's forehead while Beth waited for the second to get closer, stepping out and around to flank it as she drew her knife from its sheath. It was slow and in an advanced state of decay, hardly able to lift its arms, and its snarls were weak. Her blade slipped through its eye socket like slicing butter.

She heard Daryl walk up behind her and she glanced towards him. He made a low sound in his throat that she felt was approval, his hand coming up to brush over her sleeve as he moved past her, his crossbow already reloaded. Beth fell into step just behind him with Aaron beside her, his rifle fitted with a homemade silencer. In the resulting quiet, she could hear movement in the store to their left. The doors were wide open, propped with two cheeky looking gnomes, a colorful welcome mat stretched over the threshold. Crystal wind chimes fluttered where they hung in an eye-catching arrangement just within the door, and Beth immediately moved to the side of the doorway, her back against the building.

Aaron copied her on the other side while Daryl stayed on the stoop, peering inside the dim interior. He held up three digits, the crossbow settled against his shoulder and his finger steady at the trigger. Beth scanned the street briefly then made a gesture to Aaron, her index finger pointing down. He nodded, and she moved to stand behind Daryl again. They approached the front glass counter, still intact and full of once valuable knickknacks, decorative knives, watches, and pieces of jewelry. In the very back, where t-shirts and rows of cheap wooden souvenirs stood collecting dust, she caught sight of dark, shambling shapes. Daryl made a slight motion with his head and circled left while Beth nodded and went right.

The tables for the scattered assortment of merchandise were low and flimsy, and Beth had to hunch over almost double to use them for cover. Carefully, she crept along the far wall of the store, stealthily coming up behind a dark-haired female with a deep red sweater and tattered jeans as she swayed next to a rack of blue plaid jackets. In one quick motion, she stabbed the thing at the base of its skull, angling the knife upwards with a snap of her wrist. The walker fell immediately, the sound of its body hitting the floor drawing the attention of the other two.

She sidestepped the awkward grab of the first one as it reached rotting hands out towards her, neatly slipping her weapon through the soft flesh of its jaw, gore splattering on the sleeve of her jacket. Ripping her knife free, she spun to deal with the third one, feeling it ambling towards her from the left. A soft click echoed and it dropped before she could raise her hand. She met Daryl's gaze over the creature's shoulder as it fell, adrenaline still surging through her body like an electric current.

There was an expression on his face that she couldn't read, gaze narrowed intently as he stared at her from across the dimly lit room. She felt a little like a deer that'd caught sight of the wolf, caught in the intensity of his eyes. It tugged at her, made her gut lurch, and unconsciously, she took a step towards him, searching his body for signs of what he was thinking. She noticed the hard line of his jaw, how controlled his movements were as he lowered his crossbow minutely. Her own fingers were curled around the hilt of her knife so tightly that she was dimly aware of her knuckles aching. She took another step, watching how still he became as she inched towards him.

His pupils had blown wide, darkening his eyes. His breathing has changed, quickened, and as she got even closer, she saw him take a deep breath. Reflexively, she mirrored him, and dust tickled her nose. But so did the faintest trace of leather and smoke; warm, sharp scents she knew had wrapped themselves so tightly around him that she'd always associate them with him, with his presence. It made her pulse jump.

She was in front of him before she really registered it, tilting her head back to look up into his face. He was looking back down at her with that same expression like he saw something she couldn't and she very much wanted to know what that was. Her hand came up of its own accord, intending to spread her palm across his heart, to feel if it was beating as hard as her own right then. She needed to know. It felt vital that she knew - like she wouldn't be able to draw another breath unless she did.

A bang from the front of the store made her snatch her hand back, both of them turning in tandem, weapons up. Aaron was standing in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face, an overturned umbrella stand at his feet.

"Sorry," he muttered, before falling quiet as they all listened for the sound of approaching footsteps.

When there was nothing, Beth forced herself to relax, although her heart continued to thump hard against her ribs. She angled her head to glance at Daryl, who eased out of his balanced stance and pointed his crossbow at the ceiling. He wasn't looking at her, but she could still feel a tension radiating off him. It made her unsure, but she forced that feeling down as she relaxed her grip on her knife. They had a lot more work to do.

It became a pattern as, one by one, they cleared the buildings on that side of the street, working their way down and then back up again on the other side. By the time they came back to the welcome sign, it was late afternoon.

Daryl slid his recovered bolts back into place on his bow. "Not much worth salvagin'."

"I picked up a couple of jars, but that was about it," Aaron replied. He squinted up at the sky. "We should probably either head out of town or find somewhere before it gets dark."

Beth silently agreed. It wasn't smart to be out in the open in an environment like this for too long. Too many shadows for things to hide and not enough places that were defensible. Daryl seemed to think so too, nodding with a grunt as he rubbed his fingers across his mouth.

"Looked like some cabins on the other side of town," Aaron suggested, his eyes sweeping back and forth as if he sensed something watching them.

There was a prickling along the back of her neck that gave credence to that feeling. It may have just been the atmosphere of a ghost town, as if the black windows of the buildings were eyes, behind which crouched monsters. It was a silly idea on some level, she knew, because they'd killed everything inside that moved, but she also knew that it wasn't a good idea to believe that wholeheartedly anymore. It was better to assume that you'd have missed something than to allow a false sense of security to take root.

All the same, she reached out to touch Daryl's arm and jerked her head west, deeper into town, wordlessly indicating her desire to start moving again. She flicked her gaze to Aaron and within a moment they were walking in a loose formation, Daryl in front with her and Aaron flanking him one step behind. They kept a wary eye on the buildings and side streets, unwilling to trust that nothing else was lurking just out of sight. They walked on the sloping porches that served as a sidewalk, doing their best to muffle their tread on the wooden planks.

The scent of carrion was almost overpowering in certain areas, the dead left where they'd fallen, not only by them but by the people who'd lived in Picksville before. No one had taken the time to even try to move the corpses, and Beth wondered what caused her to think of that as significant. Standing on ceremony for the deceased wasn't practical, especially if you were scrambling to get away from whatever had killed them in the first place.

_It does matter._

Those words were a chant in the back of her head, making it throb every now and again, as they had since the night before. It matters. It damn well matters.

And there was that question again. Why? Why could it possibly matter to take the time to cover or even bury the dead? What was the point of mourning when you had to survive? It didn't change the fact they were dead, and at most, it slowed you down.

 _Because people matter, Bethy_ , a voice whispered in her head.  _They don't need that closure, but those that are left do._

Who's voice was that? It was deep, almost gruff, but edged with a gentleness that made her chest ache. It was so familiar, like a fragment was re-knitting itself into something that she could recognize, that she could  _remember._ She focused on it, tried to pull it further out of that dark corner that it was hiding in and bring it where she could really see it in her head. Who are you? she wanted to ask. Why are you there? Why are you important? And she knew that it was, like knowing the right key to fit a lock, but unable to find it in a dark room. It was frustrating.

And distracting, she realized, when a walker came out of nowhere on her right, stumbling from behind a dumpster and nearly taking a chunk out of her hand before she reacted. Twisting, she slammed her knife into its temple, her cheeks flushing with a combination of anger and embarrassment. She wrenched the knife free and the walker crumpled to the ground with a breathless rattle.

How had she let it sneak up on her like that?

She leaned down and wiped the blade clean with two furious swipes against the dead man's shirt. Straightening, she turned on her heel and stepped back towards the two men who were watching her questioningly. She met their stares with a flat one of her own, schooling her features and shutting the door on that corner of her mind that was determined to only make parts of itself known. It wasn't the time, and she somewhat felt that it never would be. She couldn't afford to take the time for it to be, not when she had to be intent on the now. Now would always be important. The past wasn't, she decided stubbornly. The little she knew kept her alive. That was important, and that was enough.

Whatever the hell else was hidden away in the back of her skull could damn well stay there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, you guys are just so amazing! Thank you so, so much for all the love and support! I love writing this and it's so gratifying and inspiring to see how much y'all are loving it too! As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the love and support! Here's a new chapter for all you lovely people, just in time for the season finale tonight! Gah, I'm so excited! I hope y'all enjoy! :D

He was a fucked up son of a bitch.

Daryl scowled out the window of the small, two-room cabin they'd broken into, his hands folded on the butt of his crossbow and his chin set on top of them. He was half-perched on the wide windowsill, one leg curled under him and the other left resting on the floor.

They'd followed the main road until it started to curve north, back up into the mountains again, finding a gravel road that went up onto a gentle hill. Four cookie-cutter cabins sat at the top of it, overlooking Picksville below. They'd picked the furthest one, closest to the thin line of trees around the back. The front porch was hardly more than a couple of roughly hewn columns and a few planks, a couple of handmade signs hung on each side of the door. The inside was dusty but in relatively good shape. There were two beds in the spare room, still neatly made, with a tiny bathroom off to the side.

Daryl ran a rough hand through his hair. Beth and Aaron were in the other room, trying to catch a few hours of sleep while he kept watch. If he turned his head, even in the dark, he could see the long pale strands of her hair fanning back over her pillow, some clinging to the blanket she'd pulled over her slight frame. He remembered how she looked in that first store, moving around those walkers. She'd been good before, but now, with that hard light in her eyes and the intuitive way she moved, it was like she'd been  _born_ to hunt them.

And God help him if realizing that hadn't sent a bolt of heat south, all the blood in his body with it.

He made a quiet, frustrated sound, his fingers tightening on his crossbow. He'd been half-hard before that third walker had even hit the ground, and when she'd  _looked_ at him, with those wide blue eyes full of fire and her cheeks flushing with adrenaline and excitement, there hadn't been a damn thing he could do to stop his body from reacting. And then he'd made the mistake of taking a goddamned breath, and all he could smell was her, summer-warm and...

Daryl shut his eyes with a groan and let his forehead fall on top of his hand, using the other to reach down and adjust his jeans. Jesus fucking Christ, he was a twisted son of a  _bitch_.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Merle giving voice to that question in his head had been like a bucket of goddamned ice water. She was so fucking far out of his league, and there was other shit that was a hell of a lot more important than what he'd been thinking about. They had jobs to do and to do them  _and_ get home alive, they all had to be in the right head space. What'd he been thinking about doing to pretty little Beth Greene was decidedly not anywhere  _near_ that.

And thinking of her as pretty wasn't helping him get back into it either.

Distracting himself, he lifted his head and let his eyes rove the barely visible yard that stretched up to the edge of the hill. In the distance, the low lying buildings were little more than dark smudges, and as far as he could see, there was no movement. They'd cleared out most, if not all, of the walkers down there, at least on the main street. Aside from one obnoxious hoot owl, it was quiet. He hadn't made up his mind if that was a good thing or not.

A floorboard softly creaked behind him, making him turn his head slightly. The moon was wane, hardly able to pierce the cabin's gloom, but every stray beam of light seemed to catch in her hair, turning them almost white, and paling her irises until they appeared a luminous shade of silver.

It made something in his chest lurch.

And what the fuck was that about?

Daryl had to fight to keep his irritation off his face as Beth padded towards him on socked feet, clutching her blanket at her chest with slender fingers, its edges whispering over the floor. Her gaze was sleepy and warm as she blinked slowly at him. Without his permission, his own gaze raked over her, drinking her in. Every time he saw her, he was reminded just how damned impossible it was that she was even there. The odds of her finding her way back to them, to  _him_...well, a smart man wouldn't have bet on her. The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, feeling some of his aggravation at himself ebb; he'd never claimed to be that smart.

"Can't sleep?" he asked her gruffly when she came closer, keeping his voice low as he flicked his gaze where Aaron's quiet snores drifted from the back bedroom.

Beth shook her head slowly, reaching up to push several errant waves out of her face. She had a drowsy expression, looked tired, but it was tinged with strain, and when she stopped beside him, her blanket brushing his jeans, he could see that her eyes had a haunted quality to them, one that he didn't like.

Clearly, he wasn't the only one that had nightmares lurking.

He didn't say anything for a long moment, studying her as she turned her head to look out the window. She'd gained some of her weight back, the gauntness that had shadowed her features filled out a little, making her look almost as young as she actually was. But the way she carried herself, the way she looked at things, those things gave her away. She wasn't the girl she looked to be. Like most people anymore, she'd just seen too damned much. And knowing that made his chest ache again.

As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned back to him, and he slid them away from her, back out towards the yard. They snapped back to her when suddenly one of her hands was on his knee, the other on his chest and shifting him. It was purely a knee-jerk reaction to follow her silent prompts, moving so that he sat more fully on the sill, one of those wide, book reading nooks that'd been popular before. Then she was in front of him, and before he could do more than make a protesting grunt, she'd settled herself between his bent legs, scooting her bottom until she was leaning back against his chest. Her head lolled, the top of her hair tickling under his jaw and he felt her sigh brush his collarbone.

Daryl swallowed and took a deep breath, willing himself not to react. His voice was only a little hoarse. "What're you doin'?"

Well, that was a damn stupid question. It was pretty fucking obvious what she was doing, and when he felt her tilt her head back against his shoulder, he knew before he looked down that her expression was probably reflecting that opinion. It was, her lips pressing together as her brows rose up. He resisted the urge to scrub a hand over his face and just let his arms come around her in a similar position to the night before. Her legs curled up so that his elbows rested against her knees, his crossbow balanced on top of them.

Beth moved back so that her face was half-buried in his jacket, her arms crossed under her blanket and Daryl went back to staring out the window. That summer scent was back in his nose, his chest expanding with it, making the tension in his body ease slightly. This was...comfortable, oddly enough. She was warm and without thinking about it, he let his chin come to rest on the top of her head. He listened to her breathe, felt her heart beat strong and steady through her back and into his chest, echoing his own. His head got quiet and that realization came with a wave of relief. He let his mind shut off, and settled himself to just watch the darkness, although he was fairly certain that there were no immediate threats in the area.

He didn't know how long they sat like that, probably a good long while. Long enough for Beth to fall asleep. Definitely long enough that he had to shift his legs just to keep the pins and needles feeling at bay. The movement had her instantly jerking awake. It was a little disquieting to witness. One minute she was out and the next, her spine was straight and even though he couldn't see her face, he knew her eyes were wide and alert.

Daryl cupped her elbow in his palm, his fingers curling over the thin expanse of her arm. "S'alright. Just movin' a lil."

He felt her immediately relax back against him, but then she angled herself so that she was looking up at him again. He tipped his chin down so that he could meet her eyes and her face seemed questioning to him as if asking if she needed to move too.

He shook his head at her. "Yer fine," he told her quietly, reticent for her to go anywhere, not when he was, for lack of a better word, content in his skin for the first time in a long while.

Beth studied him in the semi-darkness and Daryl could almost see the thoughts turning in her mind as she did. He watched her react to something she saw, her features softening for a brief second and that made him wonder what his face was showing. He had to fight not to jump when her hand slipped up from under her blanket, her fingers warm against his skin as she traced his jaw, mirroring the action she'd taken the other day in front of the gate. It was a nearly identical look too, something caught between gentle and intent. That memory mingled with the present and it drew him in, made him lower his head slightly, feeling his heart trip into a quicker rhythm.

She just looked so damn sweet, with the thin light from outside spilling over her face and her hair caressing her cheeks. But the rough edge of her fingertips reminded him of the strength hidden just beneath that pretty cornflower blue, and his hands suddenly itched with a need to touch her. He kept them still, tried to draw a breath, to keep the bewildering urge to himself because he really didn't know what would happen if he gave in. He didn't know what he wanted to happen, or what  _she_  wanted.

But when he inhaled, it was like back at the store, and all he could smell was her, summer and heat, and combined with the feel of her pressed back into him, it made his head swim. He needed to pull back, to pick her up and put her on her feet and send her back to bed, because if he didn't, he didn't think he could control the direction this...whatever it was, would go. She felt too damn good where she was and when her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth at the same time her lips parted, the blood started rushing south faster than he could regain the ability to think.

Then she licked,  _licked_ , her bottom lip, a quick motion of her tongue, pink flicking over pink, and he was goddamned done.


	17. Chapter 17

The bed had been comfortable enough, she supposed. The blankets were thick, easily keeping away the autumn chill and she'd actually gotten used to having a pillow under her head. All day, she'd been able to put the strange tension at the store away. She'd focused on clearing the street, and later, on the little things that needed to be done to make their temporary shelter secure. Her mind had been firmly on what had to get done. But when she'd laid down for the night to catch what little sleep she could before her turn at watch, she'd found that she just couldn't fully cross the threshold between wakefulness and sleep. She drifted somewhere in the middle, her mind ghosting over the things that she hadn't wanted to think about. She needed something to soothe her thoughts and stretched out on a cold, unfamiliar bed hadn't cut it, no matter how tired her body was.

 _This_ , she'd thought as she'd curled into him on the windowsill, the scent of leather and cigarettes and the feel of warm arms curling around her, this had been what she'd been missing, what had kept her from sleeping. Not that she was doing much of that now.

That wonderfully familiar scent had filled her nose as she'd looked up at him, instinctively touching her fingers against his face because, in that moment, she hadn't been able _not_ to. There'd been a look in his eyes, dark and unmistakable. She'd seen that look before, although, at that exact instant, she couldn't have said where or when, or even if it'd been meant for her.

But it _was_ meant for her right then, and she knew it for what it was.

Pure, simple want was in his gaze, naked and smoldering as his arms around her tightened a fraction, his heart beating hard and fast against her back as she guided him down to her with barely more than a whisper of her skin touching his. There was nothing in her head but responding to that want with her own, her instincts overriding any other voice in her mind.

His lips were chapped from wind and a biting habit, and rough in how they moved over hers. His kiss was clumsy, but earnest, his mouth pressing against hers fully, hotly, no holds barred, a physical admission that he couldn't entirely deny what she made him feel. She recognized it, because her response was just as open, just as honest, and just as out of her control. Because Lord knew, he made her feel things, things that she didn't entirely understand. Maybe she didn't have to. Maybe she could let the 'why's' go, and just let it be. That sounded like a better and better idea all the time. She was so tired of running in circles in her own head. How nice would it be to just not think for a while, go back to that quiet place where the questions didn't occur to her and the world made sense because there was no need to wonder about it, just react.

Right then, reacting was the easiest thing in the world. Big warm hands were snaking under her blanket, arms wrapping around her middle and holding her close as she tipped her head back to give him a better angle, her fingers sliding up to tangle in his long dark hair. Her heart skipped into overdrive, heat skittering down her spine to pool low in her belly. She twisted sideways, keeping her mouth against his and one hand in his hair as she smoothed the palm of the other against his chest, sliding it up to his shoulder, loving the sensation of worn leather and the solid muscle underneath it.

He pulled back slightly and she growled at him, yanking him back down and stroking her tongue against his bottom lip. His grip on her waist tightened and she pressed closer, both hands coming up, carding her fingers through his dark hair. Her thumbs brushed over his ears and she was thrilled to feel him shiver. Daryl's mouth parted for her and she curled her tongue around his. She wriggled again until his arms loosened from around her and she was on her knees between his legs, the blanket falling to cover the back of her thighs. The need to get closer was a pulsing thrum in her bones, in her blood, as hot and demanding as the kisses they exchanged again, and again. He tasted like the smoke that he'd breathed in at dusk, and she _loved_ it because it was him and her head was full of him and if she didn't get to touch more than just his face she was probably going to go up in flames.

She was flying on autopilot, her thoughts out the window when her fingers dipped under the collar of his jacket, seeking the skin to skin contact she was craving. At the same time, his were kneading the flare of her hips. And when one slid up her spine to press her more tightly against him, she arched her back with a groan. Daryl made a low sound in response, breathed out her name so that it caressed her lips like a lingering drop of honey, sweet and warm and making her muscles quiver. Her lips dragged against his again, softer now, slower, the heat banking a little as she dropped her forehead the slight distance so that it rested against his. Her hands came up to cradle his face.

"Daryl," she murmured, letting his name roll off her tongue, letting the warm flutter in her chest fill her voice.

_"What changed your mind?" she asked him with a smile as bright as a new copper penny in the glow of the tealights._

_He glanced at her, his hair falling into his eyes in a way that struck her as almost shy if that was a word that could ever be attributed to him. It was a gentle word, and Daryl was rarely that. He didn't know how to be, she didn't think, but there were times when he tried. She thought he might be trying now._

_"You know," he replied with a small smirk, his spoon rapping against the jam jar as he stuck a large glob of the grape goo in his mouth._

_"What?" she pressed with a laugh._

_He looked at her again, pausing mid-chew as he searched her face. Then he shrugged and made a noncommittal noise._

_"Don't 'mmm hmm mmm'," she told him, teasing. "What changed your mind?"_

_He didn't reply right away, just stared at her for a long moment, something in his face that made her belly flip-flop and her breath catch. With a flush coloring her cheeks, she suddenly understood, and all she could say was, "Oh."_

The memory made her kiss him again, still holding his face between her palms, wanting to convey to him that she remembered, that she was remembering a little more every day, because of him. He reminded her of who she was, where she'd come from. But he also made her feel okay. Like she wasn't wrong, and that she didn't need to always be shown what the line was. He trusted her, she saw it, she could feel it. He hadn't asked anything of her, hadn't demanded. There were no expectations that she knew something, or disappointment when she didn't. He just looked at _her_. Something told her that he might have always done that. She didn't know for sure, it was just a feeling. But that feeling was enough to spur her on and let her instincts stay in the driver's seat. She didn't want a definition of what they were or what they were doing. She didn't give a damn about anything right then other than how good it felt to have him touch her like this like she was the only thing that existed.

She felt his fingers tangle in her hair, cradling the back of her head as his other hand swept down her back, his thumb slipping beneath the hem of her sweater. Seemingly emboldened by her lack of protest, his hand crept higher, his calloused fingertips rasping over her soft skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She was breathless, an ache between her legs that made her rock her hips into him, which caused him to make that noise again, lower, more throaty. He pulled back from her a second time and she could feel his pulse thundering under her fingers where she rested them on the side of his neck.

Her own heart was pounding against her ribs, a hot prickle dancing across her skin.

"Fuck, Beth," he muttered, his eyes boring into hers, so dark a blue that they looked black under the waning moonlight. Then they fluttered shut with another groan, his voice deep and strained. "Don't look at me like tha' or so help me, this ain't endin' here."

But Beth still wasn't there, at least, not with any rationality. She knew what she wanted, and she was debating how to go about getting it. She could just kiss him again, take control like she had before and he'd give it to her. He was hard against her stomach, his jeans straining. Just being aware of that made heat flare up inside her again and without thinking, she rolled her hips a second time, the friction sending sparks up her spine and Daryl groaned again. Her eyes closed as she made a soft sound, spearing her bottom lip with her teeth. That felt so _good_.

"Shit," Daryl swore, his hands suddenly clamping down on her hips to keep her still. "Beth, please."

It was more the tone of his voice than what he was actually saying that grabbed her attention, made her fight her body long enough to think. With a helpless shudder, Beth drew in a deep breath and eased herself back from him a little, trying to clear her head, but she kept her forehead against his, using the contact as a buoy against the tide of need that was still tugging at her. She felt an urge to apologize that puzzled her, so she ignored it. Apologies implied some kind of regret and that was the last thing she was feeling. Affection, heat, a little frustrated, but no regrets.

If anything, she didn't want to stop, but if Daryl asked her to, if he thought that they should, then he had a reason for it, and she trusted that. So with a monumental effort, she made herself turn in his arms and settle her back against his chest again. His heart continued to gallop, hard enough that she could feel it through their clothes, and she knew that he could probably feel hers too as he gingerly wrapped his arms around her like before.

The thrumming in her body slowly ebbed, her pulse and her breathing evening out and before she knew it, sleep claimed her, easing over her with the warmth of Daryl's body folded around her and her nose burying itself in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I know, super short, but this is where I wanted to end this because 1) first kisses with Daryl Dixon deserve a chapter unto themselves and 2) I want to spend a good bit of time in Daryl's head in the next chapter after this happened.
> 
> Also, I want to apologize, profusely, for leaving you guys on that cliffhanger last chapter. See reason #1 above. Thank you guys so much for all the support, though! After last night's finale (no spoilers!), I'm more determined than ever to keep writing. I adore these two so much it hurts. Bring me that horizon, this Bethyl shipper sails on!


	18. Chapter 18

Looking down at the woman cuddling into his chest like a favorite pillow, the sun's first rays turning her hair to gold, Daryl doubted anyone would ever believe what was underneath that innocent-looking exterior. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd have believed it if the taste of summer and honey wasn't still lingering on his tongue.

Daryl let his head thump back against the wall and tried to keep still so that the blonde in front of him wouldn't be jostled awake. He ignored the heat that had cooled to a simmer in his gut. It would probably take a lot more willpower than he possessed not to react to her after last night, but he was damn well trying. It didn't count for much though, not when she'd shuffle a bit in her sleep, that sweet little ass of hers pressing against him in ways that had him cursing his fool self six ways from Sunday.

He didn't bother asking himself what he'd been thinking because it was pretty damn obvious that whatever the fuck it was taking up space between his ears had shut down the second he'd looked down and watched her flick that slick pink muscle over her lips. There was some consolation that, from the way she'd responded, she was right there with him.

But this _meant_ something, dammit, for both of them. Not just what'd happened, although that was something they needed to talk about. That was going to be one hell of a conversation. They were going to have to talk about this too, this...fuck me, he thought with a scowl. How the hell was he supposed to figure out what was between them if he couldn't even define it in his own fucking head?

Christ, he wanted her, wanted her _bad._ Not just in his bed either, although his instincts had been screaming at him that that was exactly where he wanted her. Daryl reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. She never wandered far from his thoughts, not even when he thought she was gone. The memories had haunted him, as did the dreams his brain had conjured up while he was asleep. And none of those had done her justice by any stretch of the imagination.

Beth shifted against him again, angling sideways, her legs curling up and over so that her feet were tucked against the ankle of his boot. Her arms snaked around his middle from underneath her blanket, pressing her lithe frame against his. Like a warm, pale-colored cat, she rubbed her cheek against his vest and let out a soft, content sound. It made something unfurl in his chest as if a fist had loosened and spread its fingers wide, releasing a heat that had nothing to do with the arousal that had been a slowly thrumming hum in his veins all night.

Without thinking, he stroked his hand over the top of her head, smoothing his rough palm over her wildly waving hair. He followed a sun-kissed strand to its very end, gently tugging them free from where they'd become trapped against his leg. He threaded the strands between his fingers, rubbing them with his thumb, mildly curious at how soft they felt, and yet not smooth, possessing a texture that he couldn't place. It was a compulsion to look down at her face and lift his other hand, the tip of his index finger trailing over the apple of her cheek, also soft, but silky, offering a tactile contrast to the hairs still woven in his other hand. The difference brought memories from last night careening back into the forefront of his mind, of how her skin, cool under his touch, had offset the hot sugar of her mouth, her taste a sweet fire that had threatened to burn him, to _brand_ him.

Daryl shifted, his jeans tightening as he took a breath and his lungs filled with the scent of grass and sunshine. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, willing his mind elsewhere, but it was difficult with Beth's body tucked into his and her hair tickling his nose.

_"Why?" she asked him, for the fiftieth fucking time that morning. Always, always she had to question him when he told her to do something._

_He glared at her from where he squatted under a tree, a set of tracks clearly leading away east on the ground in front of him, and growled, "You wanna learn how t'track or not?"_

_But it seemed like the days when he could intimidate her into silence with just a look were well behind them. Beth watched him with calm eyes. His scowl deepened, but she just kept looking at him expectantly, patiently. It made him want to snap at her, but he forced himself to take a breath. Even as his own eyes closed, he could feel the weight of her stare on him, like she knew that if she just waited him out, he'd explain. It rankled because he couldn't exactly deny it._

_When he opened them again, she was still looking at him, quiet and serene. He made a gesture to her and she moved closer, her chest brushing his arm as he reached out to grip her wrist, pulling her until she was crouched right in front of him. His arms came around her, silently showing her how to hold his crossbow. Daryl tugged her back a little, more aware of how her slighter frame fitted snugly against his than he probably should have been._

_Reaching around her, he pointed to the ground, tracing the edge of the mark with a fingertip. "Tell me what made these," he mutters in her ear, feeling her shudder and trying to ignore it._

_Easier said than done._

Daryl snapped back to the present with a jerk when Beth's cool fingers slipped under his jacket and trailed along his lower back. She snuffled into his chest, re-situating as goosebumps erupted across his skin. He looked back down at the crown of her head and felt her nuzzle her cheek against him again. The corner of his mouth quirked up despite himself and he shuffled her a bit so that he could stretch out his legs. Beth made a soft sound of protest and Daryl shushed her by running his hand through her hair. She immediately quieted and Daryl let his eyes move back to the window, his arms coming up around her, one hand still in her hair.

What was he doing? Hell if he knew...

Beth deserved a better man than him, in any capacity. What the hell she saw in him, he'd probably never really know, wasn't sure that he'd want her to tell him, or that he'd even believe her if she did.

Pretty Beth Greene with hair like sunshine and eyes the color of cornflowers blooming in June.

Girl's done made a pussy poet outta ya, Merle spat from the back of his head, and Daryl shook the phantom of his brother's ghost away.

He weren't no poet, that was just the way she was. She couldn't make a poet out of him if she tried. Somehow, he doubted that she would. For reasons he couldn't fathom, she liked him the way he was. She hadn't said it, but he figured that any woman that kisses a man like she'd kissed him was being pretty damned clear about how she saw him.

Was that a good thing? Was... _this,_ a good thing?

Unconsciously, he spun a pale yellow strand around his finger as he stared out the window.

It could go bad. It could go really damn bad. Although he wouldn't intentionally hurt her, he still could. The rage that coiled in his stomach, a lifetime of resentment, had a tendency to lash out and he didn't always have enough control over it to keep people out of the line of fire. Shit, she knew firsthand that when he finally let it out, it was fucking ugly. She'd stood right there in the face of it, next to that moonshine shack, and let him hurl every hurtful thing he could think of at her, trying to drive her and all that brightness she embodied as far away as fucking possible. She'd stood nose to nose with him through it, unable to hide her flinching but too damned stubborn to back away.

And then she'd let him have it.

In under a minute, she'd taken every piece of his anger and shredded it. And when he'd tried to sling more at her, he'd found that he just didn't have it in him anymore. She'd forced him past it, past the fury that'd bubbled in his belly most of his life and into the grief and pain that lurked just behind it, the shit he'd never wanted to deal with or even acknowledge. Her arms had come around him and she laid her ear against his shoulder as it came pouring out of him, quiet as a church mouse, no judging, no forcing, just there, a warm presence at his back. It didn't fix anything. Weren't nuthin' that _could_ fix that part of him, not even her, but she'd helped him make peace with it.

He'd never thanked her for that.

He wasn't sure that he could.

Daryl felt her stir against him and he looked down at her again. He watched her eyes slowly flutter open, warm and drowsy and so goddamned blue that he was tempted to think that any other shade of it didn't deserve the name. Her head tilted back and she smiled up at him softly, her cheek resting over his heart. Fuck, he was in trouble. She'd done nothing but give him a sleepy smile and he felt like his chest was going to explode.

"Mornin'," he told her gruffly.

Beth didn't reply, just nodded before glancing out the window and he followed her line of sight. The sun was still coming up, leaving large parts of the world outside still in shadow. There was a hush like the trees were holding their breath, waiting. She hummed softly and sat up, her blanket falling to her lap. Daryl loosened his arms from around her, nearly jumping out of his skin when she leaned back against him long enough to press her mouth quickly against his before pushing up from him, and Daryl had to fight the urge to yank her back down and take the kiss that he really wanted. Or the one that'd some sorely neglected parts of him wanted.

He clamped down on it, trying to think of anything that'd get his mind away from Beth Greene and her mouth that melted like spun sugar against his. But then she turned and started walking towards the bedroom, and his eyes were drawn to the part of her that'd been pressed up against him all night. He snapped his gaze up, saw her pull her hair back over her shoulders, flashing the long column of her neck and his head was suddenly filled with pictures of her doing that every day, of gentle morning kisses that started right at that soft, perfect curve under her ear and slow sleepy smiles that made his chest tighten again.

Trouble wasn't even the right fucking word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos for the last chapter! I was so excited to get it up and out there for y'all, so I'm beyond thrilled that it was so well received! You guys are just awesome! :D


	19. Chapter 19

The woods were quiet, quieter than any she'd walked through, and the further up they went, the less they saw any evidence of people. That was discouraging for Aaron, but Daryl had pointed out that it only meant that the walkers hadn't climbed that far yet. Folks tended to act a bit more cagey after what the world had been through. Beth thought it was a fair enough point, and Aaron had seemed to agree. He also seemed to be intent on teasing the hell out of Daryl, for reasons that she didn't know or understand.

She'd passed him on her way back into the bedroom that morning, hunting for her pack, his brows rising up clear to his hairline as his eyes shifted between her and the blanket she'd left in Daryl's lap. At her questioning look, he'd only shaken his head and grinned.

And then it'd started.

"Kinda cold last night, wasn't it?" the curly-haired man had asked nonchalantly as they'd sat down to eat a couple cans of peaches.

Daryl had damn near choked, grunting sullenly after he'd cleared his throat, his jaw muscle twitching and the tips of his ears turning red where they protruded from under his hair. That had seemed to be all the encouragement Aaron had needed. It was merciless for a while after that.

Once they'd started into the woods, however, he'd gone silent, taking a position that flanked Daryl in the lead and Beth watching the rear. Headphones dangled around his neck, as did the binoculars, although there wasn't much point in using them. The trees grew close together on the steep slant of the mountainside, thick thorn vines and small saplings entwining around the trunks, limiting their range of vision to little more than a few feet at a time. Every so often, Daryl would stop so that Aaron could sweep his listening device in a slow circle, straining to hear anything that might indicate human life.

As far as she knew, he'd heard nothing.

Beth kept her attention split between where they stepped and the man in front of her. Despite herself, she'd find her mind wandering back to last night, and a flush would creep into her cheeks that she couldn't entirely blame on the chill gusts that cut through the woods. It was one of several reactions that she didn't understand. On the one hand, she felt that it didn't matter. It happened. There was no point in wondering about it. And yet, on the other hand, she couldn't seem to help herself.

Beth narrowed her eyes at Daryl's back, an irrational irritation taking root as she struggled to keep her focus on their surroundings, to keep her emotions cool and tucked well away. But it was like trying to stop breathing, memories lingering on her skin like the touch of his calloused fingertips, ghosting along the waistband of her jeans at her lower back, where his thumb had left a warm trail. It was a persistent sensation that made her shiver. The niggling question of 'why' was tickling the back of her mind, spidering into different paths that bubbled up, only to trip on her tongue, unable to push past her teeth. But they were there. And she still wanted to ask.

Why had he kissed her? Why was she still thinking about it? Why was it important?

She felt that he had at least some of those answers, but how was she going to ask when the words never came when she needed them?

It was frustrating, and Beth did what she could to push the concern aside. The back of her head throbbed painfully, making her grimace. She adjusted her grip on her knife, taking care to step on top of the leaves, not through them, her tread muffled.

_The sun was warm on her back as she darted over a fallen log, ducking behind a tree and pressing her back against the trunk. The bark scratched at her through her shirt as she tried to keep her breathing even like she'd been taught. A crack sounded beside her just before a large, grimy hand covered her mouth._

_"It's like trackin' a goddamned elephant," Daryl murmured in her ear, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Rabbits two miles out probably heard ya."_

_She pushed his hand down to her chin with a scowl. "I listen fine, it's your teachin' method tha's bullshit."_

_He flicked her ear, making her yelp. "Quit sassin' and start listenin'," he growled at her. "I ain't doin' it t'give ya a hard time."_

_Guilt flashed cold and hard in her gut and she dropped her eyes with a nod, feeling childish. Sighing, she straightened her shoulders and nodded a second time, lifting her head. "Aright."_

Beth blinked, her gaze fixing again on Daryl's back as he silently shouldered past a tangled set of vines. She wondered if she couldn't see him if she'd be able to sense his presence at all. He made virtually no noise as he moved, the tiny sounds that did come from his movements easily explained as wind or a branch's creak. When he turned to the side, she caught his expression, intent and predacious, like a broad dark cat stalking through the underbrush. His crossbow was in his hands, his index finger stretched next to the trigger, his head making minute motions back and forth in a way that Beth knew signaled his scanning back and forth, searching for any sign of movement.

They crested the top of a small incline, the other side sloping down into a deep, bramble-covered ravine, and Daryl froze, his legs slightly bent as he snapped the bow up, aiming at something below them. Beth came up beside him, sliding her knife out of its sheath and her eyes probing the gully. Instantly, she saw what had snagged his attention.

A walker swayed back and forth on unsteady feet near the rocks that closed on the far end, its silvery hair matted and falling out in wet limp ropes. His leg was at an odd angle like it'd been broken or mended badly. The head snapped up, its mouth open, revealing rotting teeth and a black, swollen tongue. It snarled and stumbled in their direction, thin arms stretching out, the sleeves of its shirt hanging in tatters, strips of flesh melded to the fabric.

Daryl glanced at Beth, lowering his crossbow a fraction. "He ain't goin' nowhere," he muttered and she nodded, slipping her knife back at her belt.

Aaron came up on the other side of her and pointed past the ravine. "That looks like a road."

Daryl gestured and Aaron pulled the binoculars from around his neck, handing them to the other man while Beth kept an eye on the walker below them.

"Branches off into a lane," he said, giving the pair back to Aaron as he glanced back down at the walker. "He might've been part of a group tha' came up this way. Or he's wha's left of 'em."

They had to work their way around the large gap in the earth, the walker shuffling against the perimeter of its walls. Beth considered whether it would be worth the waste of the bolt or the bullet to put the thing down but ultimately decided that it wouldn't. Unless someone else was fool enough to be wandering this part of the woods, its presence posed little danger to anything besides the unfortunate critters that fell in with it. Weak as it was, though, even that was a slim chance.

Staying well off the road itself, the three of them hiked up towards the dirt lane that was visible on the other side. It wound upwards, curving out of sight, which was a good indication that whatever house or cabin at the end of it was likely tucked fairly well beyond any walkers that happened to wander the road, however unlikely that may be. It was also a potentially defensible position, so if they found it deserted, it wouldn't be a bad place to hole up for the night. If it was occupied, then it pointed to people that at least had the sense to increase their chances by claiming the high ground.

They took cover behind several boulders that had knocked together in a landslide at some point in the past, and Beth held out her hand to Aaron as she crouched down next to him. He'd shown her how the device worked before they'd left the safe zone, but he hesitated, his fingers on the edge of the headset. Impatiently, she pointed to a small crevice between the rocks, just large enough for someone her size or smaller to wriggle through. The reception was clearer without obstructions in the way, and if anyone was inside four walls, it was going to be difficult enough to hear anything. The equipment was sensitive, but it was old and had seen better days. The two men were too broad in the shoulder to fit, and it was too risky to round the face of the stones, not with all of them wearing dark clothing and thus ridiculously easy to spot.

These were things that passed through her mind in the space of a couple of seconds, and she saw them flash through Aaron's in the reflection of his eyes. She didn't look at where Daryl knelt at the edge of the rocks, his shoulder pressed against them, concealing himself low to the ground. She was unwilling to be put further off balance than she already was around him just then. Aaron gave it to her and she shot him a crooked smile of thanks. Then she was crawling between the rocks, carefully holding the device ahead of her in both hands, using her elbows to pull herself forward. Her legs were stretched out behind her, her boot nudging Aaron's.

The opening on the other side was narrow, but she easily squeezed herself just out of the other side, tall weeds obscuring both it and her from view. Slipping the headphones over her ears, Beth flipped the switch on the back of the device and situated herself for what could potentially be a long wait.

Slowly, she turned the dish, listening. Static fizzled and popped, the only sounds aside from the occasional birdsong or scurry of squirrels.

After a while, there was a tap on the back of her leg and she scuttled her way back through the opening, tugging the headphones down and pushing up to her knees as she cleared the rocks. Turning to Daryl, she shook her head. She'd heard nothing. That didn't mean much, though, and when she looked into his face, she knew that he was thinking the same.

They couldn't drop their guard.

Lifting the set from around her neck, she handed it back to Aaron and stood. The men copied her, the three of them falling back into their original formation as they quickly darted across the road. They kept low, wary as they climbed the hill on the opposite side. She'd heard nothing, but her instincts were telling her something was up ahead. Her mouth pressed into a thin line as she looked up, searching the trees as her gut jerked in warning. Beth gathered up her hair and tucked the pale strands under the collar of her sweater, moving it out of her way as her senses kicked into high alert.

_Every muscle in her body was screaming at her in protest. Cold metal was slick in her hand, a pop so loud in her ears that they rang and her head was forced back, blind with pain._

Her fingers brushed over the scar on her brow and it twinged dully. She'd learned the hard way to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned today how amazing you people are? No? Well, let me say it! You guys are AWESOME! It absolutely makes my day every morning when I wake up, check my inbox, and see all the love y'all have for this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you! :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you have been expressing some concern about why Daryl hasn't really addressed or acknowledged the fact that Beth isn't speaking (or not speaking much). I want to reassure y'all that it isn't due to a lack of awareness on his part or mine. I don't want to give to much away at this point, but please know that I have something very specific in mind with how I want to address it. And I also wanted to let y'all know that, while he isn't thinking about it and may seem like he doesn't really know that something's wrong, he does. He does know that something isn't right with Beth, but considering the circumstances around her coming back and their recruiting run, it isn't at the forefront of his mind. Think of it as a back burner thought, if that helps, and as one that I promise I am going to bring up very soon. Cross my heart. That being said, I appreciate the trust and faith y'all have placed in me! I just wanted to let you know that I'm hearing and reading your concerns and feedback!
> 
> Now, on to the new chapter! I hope you all enjoy! :D

The cabin at the top of the lane was larger than the one they'd stayed in the night before. Two stories tall, with a wide, spacious balcony serving as a porch stretched up, framed in the back by massive bay windows. A swing was visible on the far side, peeled and creaking. Shrubs that had been planted around the side of the house had grown wild and bushy, obscuring many of the lower floor's panes. Gravel and smooth river stones had been strewn over certain areas of the yard, weeds choking them, but not so much that Daryl couldn't pick out where people had disturbed them, the scrambling, crooked path their feet took reflecting speed and carelessness. At least a couple of folks had made it up this far, running like the devil was right behind them.

He'd sent Beth to the left with the binoculars, towards a tall oak with low hanging branches, to get a better look at the house. Within seconds, she'd vanished into the red and gold leaves, nimbly finding purchase in the bark with slender fingers. Daryl watched her until she was out of sight, then turned to squat down next to Aaron. The curly-haired man cut his eyes towards him.

"She's good?"

Daryl grunted, keeping his crossbow aimed at the ground. There was an uncomfortable prickle between his shoulder blades. Something about the place was off. His eyes slid towards the road, back down the hill where they'd come. That walker in the ravine was one reason. From the way it had decayed and how weakly it'd tried to claw its way up the steep sides of the gully, it'd been there a while. The poor bastard had probably fallen in and had been left there with his people hoping like hell that he was dead when he hit the bottom.

"Anythin'?" he asked Aaron quietly, his gaze fixing on the house.

The other man shook his head slowly, his voice low, "I don't hear anything, but that doesn't mean much."

"Naw, it don't." Daryl glanced at the tree, listening for the slightest sound from its boughs, but it was silent. "Can't see nuthin' from here," he grumbled, knowing that what he was saying had no point, but couldn't help himself.

"S'why you sent her up in the first place," Aaron reasoned with him, and Daryl didn't miss the twitch of the smug son of a bitch's lips out of the corner of his eye.

From sun up until they left the cabin, he'd caught shit for something that Aaron only _suspected_ had happened, much to his apparent delight, and while Daryl wasn't going to deny that he deserved it, that didn't mean that it didn't make his hackles come up. But the teasing wasn't the only thing that had him on edge this morning. Daryl shook his head roughly; wasn't a good line of thinking to be following right then.

His eyes flicked back to the tree.

One of the branches bounced, its remaining leaves shuddering as a pair of dark brown boots appeared in the foliage, followed by flashes of denim and dull grey. Beth dropped to the ground, her long blonde hair tucked safely away beneath the collar of her sweater and for the split second that she stood beneath the tree, she blended into it. Then she was crouching low, scurrying towards them with the binoculars clutched in one hand, shaking her head quickly.

She hadn't seen anything either.

The prickling sensation got worse as she stopped beside him, a leaden feeling balling in the pit of his stomach. Something was fucking _wrong_ here. There were no traps, nothing set up as an alarm perimeter; the place was just dead quiet. And aside from Picksville proper, the whole area had smelled clean, like what he figured it'd probably smelled like before the world went to shit. This place, though, this place smelled like a lot of other places, like death and rot. It was weak, a sickly sweet hint in the air, but it was there. From the way Beth wrinkled her nose faintly, she smelled it too. She turned to look at him, her head tilting questioningly and he nodded.

"Yeah, I know."

Aaron glanced at him. "Know what?"

Daryl didn't answer him right away, staring at the house, unconsciously chewing on the inside of his lip. Shit wasn't worth it, he decided, not when his gut was hollering at him to get the fuck up and move on. There weren't nuthin' in there worth whatever the fuck it was that was setting off every instinct he had, that made them scream to turn tail and run.

"Oughta move on," he said finally, easing back from the edge of the yard. "Ain't nobody here."

Aaron considered him for the space of a heartbeat, then moved to follow as Beth slipped down the small incline. Damp leaves rustled softly beneath their weight as they picked their way back the way they'd come, heading for the road. The drainage ditch was just beyond the tree line when Beth suddenly stopped short, whipping her head to the left, to where the highway wound down the mountain. Aaron froze, clearly straining to hear or see whatever it was that had caught her attention. Daryl grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him down, reached out to do the same to Beth, but she was faster, hitting the ground on her belly, her palms bracing flat and her ear pressed to the earth.

Daryl slid down beside her, his hip pressing against hers and his breath stirring tendrils of her hair as he whispered, "Car?"

She angled her head towards him, just enough that she could look at him and her head dipped a fraction. That was when he heard it too, a low, distant rumbling. Something bigger than a car then. Truck, maybe?

They didn't dare move, aside from burrowing themselves more firmly into the ground, letting the leaves build up around them as their chests pressed into the damp black soil underneath. Daryl kept his right hand on his crossbow while the other slid down to his belt, to the knife that Beth had refused to take back. The back of his knuckles brushed hers and he realized without looking that she was doing the same thing.

Minutes crawled by sluggishly as the noise from the engine reverberated through the woods, bouncing off the rocks and trees into the earth, vibrating into their bones. That alone had been a good indication that there was likely more than one, well before the first of a convoy came into view. Massive trucks with their beds covered by a thick tarp, military looking, the tires as tall as a grown man. He couldn't even imagine how much gas they needed. Whoever they were, they had resources. He couldn't get more than a glance inside the cabs, but none of the occupants were wearing fatigues. Scavenged, probably. Aside from their roar as they thundered up the mountain, every other sound was drowned out. Silently, he counted. Five, no, six, his eyes fixing on the last truck as it rounded the bend in the road before abruptly turning off onto the lane that led up to the cabin they'd just left. The others disappeared out of sight, their noisy passage slow to fade.

Cautiously, Daryl lifted his head up, bracing his weight on his forearms as he craned his neck to peer back up the slope where the last truck had gone. He could still hear it. Then it abruptly shut off and the resounding silence was as loud as a fucking cannon. It made him feel deaf. Beth moved beside him and he twisted to see her on one knee, her left hand still planted on the ground and her other foot already under her. Aaron pushed up and slunk closer to the two of them.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Daryl knew well enough what he'd want to do. Shit, they needed to do it, but he didn't like it. That prickle was still itching down his spine and the sense of something not being right had only intensified. Merle's voice was a dry buzz at the back of his skull, mockingly warning him how goddamned stupid it'd be to go back up there and play Bond when the smart thing to do was take off and not look back. Whatever the fuck was going down in those mountains had nothing to do with him or his. Take whatever the hell they could carry and get back before anything even had a chance to happen because, with his luck, shit was just fucking _bound_ to sooner or later.

Merle always was a fucking ray of sunshine that way.

Keeping his surly response to his brother locked in his head, he stood up and held out a hand to Beth as Aaron clambered to his feet beside him. She took it, her smaller fingers wrapping around his briefly before she dropped them and started back up the incline at a lope, navigating the pitted, rocky terrain with ease. The other two were right behind her as she dropped back down onto her stomach, crawling up the last couple of feet and peering over the top, using the underbrush as best she could for cover. They flanked her, Aaron tugging on the binoculars and holding them up to his eyes.

Daryl couldn't see much from his vantage point, the yard partially screened from sight by the large truck that'd been backed up to the door of the cabin. The cab was empty, the doors flung wide open and no one in sight.

"Shit," Aaron breathed, lowering them and holding them out to Beth, whispering, "Take a look at the windows, second floor."

She cradled the pair between her hands, scrolling the knob in the middle to adjust the lenses, then hissed out a breath as she looked through them. Daryl plucked them from her hands impatiently, nudging her shoulder with his so that she'd scoot over. Shooting him a glare, she moved and he took her spot, balancing on his elbows.

The windows were still dark, causing him to squint through the binoculars as he trained them on one specific pane in the second story. He caught small movements, weirdly distorted through the glass until someone turned on a light and then he could see them, walkers, at least a dozen of them, swaying and shuffling towards the other side of the room. He switched to the window just to the left and spotted what looked like two men, probably no older than thirty, barricading a door. A light flashed through the other window and he looked back towards it.

"What the fuck are they doin'?" he asked gruffly as he passed the binoculars back to Aaron.

"Looks like they might be storing them?" the other man answered uncertainly, looking through them again. "Real question's why."

"Naw," Daryl disagreed. "Real question's why it's any of our business." He looked over Beth's back at the other man, his skin _crawling_ with the need to get out of there, to get them all away from the danger he could practically smell. "Ain't got nuthin' t'do with us."

"We won't know that unless we watch them for a while," Aaron argued softly, lowering the binoculars and turning his head to give Daryl an emphatic look. "We need to make sure."

Daryl was in the process of shaking his head when his eyes fell on Beth. She was staring silently at the house, her expression neutral, but there was that stubborn set of her jaw, the one that meant she'd set her mind on something.

"What?" he asked her and she glanced at him. Thoughts were lurking in her gaze, but he couldn't tell what they might be, save one. That one, where the blue lightened just a little and her pupils dilated. She didn't like what she was thinking.

Beth breathed deeply through her nose. Then, very slowly, very carefully, as if she were reciting a practiced poem, she repeated, "We should make sure." She breathed in again before adding, "They aren't good people."

_There are still good people, Daryl._

His grip on the crossbow tightened. The words had the same fucking impact, as gently quiet and resolute as they had been before, making the muscles in his stomach clench. The present and the past blurred in a single blink and as he met her gaze, he realized that she'd known that his protest had been pretty damn hollow. Because he'd known she was going to go in there, because she was one of those good people. Maybe he was too, he didn't know. What he did know was that he'd back her as long as she wanted to fight.

And from the look in her eye, Beth wanted one.


	21. Chapter 21

It was like an itch under her skin. As soon as she'd seen the truck, it'd struck her. She  _had_ to get in there. It was the first time she could distinctly remember ignoring her instincts, her muscles tight with the need to bolt when she'd forced herself to lie still. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she'd looked through the binoculars. She didn't want to think about why. She just wanted to do it.

Her head was throbbing. It'd taken so much effort to force those words out, but she  _had_ to. As carefully as she could, she'd strung them together into something that she thought he would understand. It wasn't a compulsion, it was a necessity. It'd been taxing, but the ache in her skull was worth it. Daryl had agreed.

_There are still good people, Daryl._

The words were flashing through her head like a pulse as she eased some of the leaves in front of her to the side to get a better view. There were good people. Daryl was one. Aaron and Eric were. It was possible there were others. They could walk into that house, looking for shelter, a roof, a home. She watched two men as they came out of the house, carrying automatic rifles and long slender sticks that forked at the end. Cattle prods, she thought. How she knew that she had no idea, but it wasn't important.

The truck cranked up, its powerful engine causing the earth to vibrate as it lurched forward like a big green bull. She watched it roll down the gravel driveway until it was out of sight. And still, they waited, listening to the rumbles echo up from the road, then slowly fade out, winding back and forth, further up the mountain. She spared a second to wonder if they should follow. Aside from clearing out the house, she considered the fact there may be little to nothing that would tell them anything inside. But something uncurled from that dark little corner of her mind, a soft voice that quietly insisted that she remove the potential threat to innocent people.

Who was innocent in this world anymore? she fired back, not bothering to hide her scowl even as she slipped up to her feet. The old adages had found fertile soil to take root here, and those who lacked strength or cunning were eventually devoured. How many times had she seen it happen? How often -

_Screams, ear-shattering screams that reverberated in her bones even as a baby's happy gurgle bubbled up from the dark._

She almost paused as she kept low, sensing Daryl and Aaron slinking along the edge of the yard behind her. It wasn't all that unusual for the memories that surfaced to be jumbled up, impressions of sensations, sounds, tastes, smells, flitting images that never stayed still long enough for her to get a grasp of what they were or how they fit with the others lingering in the dark.

She shut the musings down as she approached the door, pressing her ear to the door and sliding her knife out of its sheath. Glancing at Daryl, she moved her head a fraction to indicate that she heard nothing. He pointed a finger at Aaron then down at the porch. The curly-haired man nodded, his rifle comfortably settled in his hands as he put his back to the section of wall that jutted out, creating an alcove of sorts for the front stoop. Just as they'd done yesterday, she and Daryl framed each side of the door.

In tandem, they swept into the house, Daryl swinging the door open and taking point with Beth right on his heels. In moments, they cleared the first level, the open floor plan leaving few idle places for concealment. Daryl stayed in front of her, angling his body deliberately as they moved through the house, leaving openings for her to dart around him or lash out with her knife if need be. In turn, she kept her back to him, swiveling her upper body in a half arc, her steps measured and made with care as she scanned back and forth for any threats they may have missed, unlikely as the possibility might be.

If she wasn't going to listen to the most sensible of her instincts, she paid the price of pride and allowed the more paranoid ones take the reins. She'd probably outlive the regret for walking into this death trap. Which begged the goddamned question of why back to the front of her mind. Why would they set this cabin up like this? She couldn't fathom deliberately placing walkers in a house for any other reason than a trap of some kind, so storing them maybe? Both? But it was so far out of the way. Aside from the people in the trucks, and themselves, who the hell had the ability to make it this far up into the mountains?

The questions led to another that made her blood chill. Had the people in the trucks stumbled on the trail of bodies they'd left in their wake? Were any of them trackers? Had they already been by the cabin the three of them had stayed at last night? Were they being watched?

That last one had her glancing out the windows they passed as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. They knew what the rooms on the right end of the hall contained, so they went left, Beth ducking under Daryl's arm as he put his hand on the first door they came to. She adjusted her grip on her knife, her free hand bracing on the wall as she looked up and nodded to him. He threw it open, swinging his crossbow around to aim inside. Beth came around the doorjamb beside him, dropping to her knee so she could peer beneath the bed. Seeing nothing, she scrambled to her feet and went to flank one side of the closet, cautiously gripping the doorknob. Daryl's eyes flickered to her and she yanked on it, knife poised in her hand.

Empty.

As were the rest of the bedrooms on that side of the house. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or pissed about it. That itchy feeling was getting worse, making her feel like she had to do something, sink her knife into something, kick down the next door, scream, anything. She just needed a way to release the tense, jittery itchiness that was jangling under her skin and making her nerves sing.

Patience, she crooned in her head, soothing herself like you would an antsy cat. Only a couple more feet. The paranoia was drowning in the blood starting to simmer in her veins, pulsing through her body in a two-beat echo that she could almost hear. By the time they backtracked to the right side of the house, she was humming softly under her breath, some nameless tune that was tickling at the edge of her consciousness. Daryl gave her a side-eyed look that she ignored in favor of eagerly reaching for the door. His hand snapped out and covered hers, tightening around her fingers. She snatched her head up to glare at him, her lips pulling back in a snarl.

"Wait," he mouthed to her, narrowing his eyes and Beth blinked, then forced herself to let go of the door, forced herself to allow her muscles to loosen.

When he felt her hand relax beneath his, he released it and she let it drop to her side. As his fingers curled around the knob, she fell back into the established pattern, lifting her knife slightly and bracing her weight on the balls of her feet. Holding his bow steady, Daryl eased the door open this time, barely more than a crack, and peered inside. He let go of the door as it held its position and held up his hand, fingers spread. More than five then.

Beth felt the corners of her mouth quirk up, adrenaline flooding her body. For the first time that day, she felt right in her skin, the itchiness abating a fraction and replaced with a charged, static-y sensation. But she waited, her gaze fixed on his face as bright blue irises flicked back and forth. Then he was surging forward, firing at the closest walker before dropping the bow and drawing her blade from his hip. He sunk it into the head of the next. Seeing it filled her with something hot, threatened to steal her breath as she flanked him.

Walkers, if nothing else, were consistently single-minded. Their tactics never changed, and while that could be an advantage, it was also dangerous. People thrived in a sense of security, and it was easy to fall into the idea that walkers only knew how to mindlessly lurch forward at their prey. And in general, they were right. But sometimes, you ran across the rare one that still remembered how to do more than just grab and bite.

The first walker that came at her fell quickly as she snaked between its grasping arms and stabbed the blade of her knife through its forehead. Her blood up, Beth had to fight to keep the grin off her face. It wasn't the death that was pleasurable, but the fight, the way her mind shut off and her body ran on intuition alone. She craved that mental silence, a temporary peace from the clamoring fragments of her brain. As the walker sank to its knees, she side-stepped it, spinning another to face her as it reached for Daryl. Viciously, she kicked its legs from out from under it, then slammed her boot into its skull, the softened bone and tissue offering no resistance.

More walkers were crammed in the closet, struggling to escape, their hands outstretched and grasping. Beth grabbed one by the wrist and jerked, slamming her knife through its jaw. She shoved it up with a grunt and the dim glimmer in its eyes snuffed out like a blown candle, truly dead. Yanking her arm back, gore and black blood dribbling down her hand, she stumbled back, putting space between her body and the remaining walkers, avoiding their clenching fingers. Daryl shifted to stand beside her, she noted out of the corner of her eye before another staggered from his fellows. It was like the right stone fell away from a dam, the rest of them pouring out.

Curling her hand tighter around the hilt of her knife, Beth easily ducked beneath a clumsy grab, angling the weapon as she shot up straight and slammed it into the walker's face. She pushed it back, made the ones behind it stumble and fall. Then she was on them, darting left then right as she bent and plunged the knife through the tops of their skulls, their growls falling abruptly silent. A shadow fell across her and she whirled, driving her knife hard into the eye socket of a female with long hair that was even paler than her own.

Panting, Beth wrenched her knife free again, quickly searching the room for any further threats before she sought out Daryl, seeking and meeting his eyes as he turned to her, breathing as hard as she was. Bodies were strewn haphazardly around them. Ten, a dozen maybe. Her eyes raked over him, her heart galloping and a savage sense of being  _alive_  spearing through her.

That pull she'd experienced yesterday was tugging at something low in her belly again as she watched him do the same to her, his gaze slipping over her as sweat dripped from his hair. Unconsciously, she licked her lips and she felt more than heard him make a low sound in his throat. He took a step towards her, but that was as far as he got, Aaron appearing in the doorway to the room with wide eyes.

"Come out to the backyard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for the wonderfully kind and encouraging comments, as well as the kudos and questions! Please keep them coming!
> 
> As always, I hope y'all enjoyed the update. :)


	22. Chapter 22

Daryl pushed past Beth, his fingers curling around her elbow and tugging her behind him before he leaned down and retrieved his bolt and the crossbow. She followed the silent instruction without comment, the knife still bloody in her hand. Aaron turned on his heel and trotted back down the stairs, his rifle over his shoulder as he rounded the end of the banister and heading for the back of the house, the other two close behind. He swung the screen door open, barely caught it before it slammed into the side of the cabin. He stood in front of it and pointed to the yard as they crowded the open door, the smell of rot so strong that he covered his mouth.

"Do you  _see_ that?" he asked, slightly muffled.

How the fuck could they miss it?

Daryl grimaced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking an involuntary step back. From the back porch to the edge of the woods, there was nothing but upturned black dirt. Parts of the yard were sunken, other areas raised and covered with fresh soil, and closest to the treeline, huge clumps of earth were piled high where animals had dug down to seek what had been buried beneath. And in those piles were bones, limbs that flesh still stubbornly clung to, chunks of meat and skeleton that had been barely covered over with a thin layer of soil. Like macabre gravestones, skeletal, decomposing fragments of what had once been people jutted out of the ground crookedly, almost defiantly, as if the souls that were once housed within them refused to allow themselves to be forgotten. Blood, old and blackened, trailed in nonsense patterns over the dirt, leaving a filthy, coppery taste to the air.

The whole place was thick with decaying earth and a sweeter, cloying scent that snaked just underneath it, and even without the evidence in front of them, it was unmistakable.

"What the actual  _fuck_?" he asked, not really expecting an answer, his eyes roving back and forth over what was basically a mass grave.

He heard Aaron swallow hard and glanced at him, noting how his hands were trembling where they clutched the strap of his gun. He tipped his head towards the edge of the back porch. "Take a look over there."

Daryl approached the railing warily, then leaned over it. It was a fight not to jerk back. Torsos, whole, for the most part, from neck to groin, had been lined along the back wall of the house,  _neatly_. They were stacked like firewood, one on top of the other, at least three deep. Not even covered, just left out to rot. Oddly, though, not a one had a single bite or scratch mark. The skin, where it had torn, seemed to be from decomposition alone.

"What are we even looking at," he heard Aaron mutter next to him as he stepped across the porch. "Is this what they do to the walkers eventually? Or to living people?"

"Dunno," Daryl replied tersely. "Could be both. Could be neither." He felt Beth brush against him as she moved to stand beside him, her shoulder bumping his bicep. "Don' make it any less fucked up."

He cut his eyes to the other man as he spoke. Aaron met his glance and nodded, his lips curling down. Daryl pointed down to the closest one. "Look at them cuts there," he said, indicating the neck. "Clean, no tearin'. Same where the legs s'posed t'be. Sons of bitches know what they're doin'."

"Yeah, but why?" Aaron questioned, breathing fast and hard through his nose, his pupils dilated to pinpricks and Daryl wondered for a brief second if the man was going to puke.

"Dunno," he repeated. "Don' matter. Ain't nobody we wanna take back. Ain't nobody tha' we want close neither."

Aaron looked over at him. "You want to just pack it in and head home then?"

Daryl flung his hand towards the yard. "Well, I sure as hell doubt the fuckers 'round here's anybody we need t'be messin' with."

"It might be different further north," Aaron pointed out.

"Might not be," he countered, lifting his eyes to look at the backyard again, scanning the trees for any sign of movement.

That itching feeling was back and getting worse. They could discuss it later when they were further away from this shit. They needed to move. He took a step back from the railing and his gaze shifted to Beth. She looked up at him and he ticked his chin towards the woods. Her eyes flickered in that direction before she nodded. Silently gesturing to Aaron, he walked quickly to the back steps. Skirting the dirt, they made a beeline for the trees, careful to leave as few tracks as possible.

Daryl led them in a large circle around the cabin, angling to work their way back down the mountain. It was slower going than the hike up had been, stopping every few yards to listen for the sound of those trucks. Beth moved easily just beside him, her footsteps hardly more than a soft rustling, and that made a weird sense of pride bubble up in his chest. As messed up as her head was, she remembered the lessons he'd given her when it'd just been the two of them after the prison.

He probably shouldn't have been surprised; she'd been the one to ask for them in the first place. Initially, he'd figured that she was just looking for a way to pass the time, or maybe to wheedle more words than he was willing to spare her as he tried to come to terms with the loss of the only home he'd ever really had. He hadn't counted on how much he actually liked instructing her. She was quick, in more ways than one, and as determined as a damned bulldog. That she'd approached him after the first time was something he considered a goddamned miracle because he'd been tough as fuck on her. That didn't change either. He might have gotten a little more enjoyment out of being close to her than he should have, but when he'd seen that stubborn set of her jaw, he'd figured she was serious about it.

She didn't quit, she didn't bitch, and any comments she had, she only made them once, and to her credit, it was never behind his back. She had something to say, she said it. It'd taken some adjusting. He didn't know how to be anything but rough on her, and answering her questions had required more patience than he thought he had. But he fought down the urges to lash out at her need to know why, and she seemed to take his answers to heart. She listened, paid attention, and when she screwed up, she didn't have a problem with him correcting her, usually pretty harshly. Girl sacked up like a man and just asked him to show her again. And he had learned to respect the hell out of her for it.

They were close to the row of cabins where they'd spent the night before. The side of the nearest one was just visible beyond the trees when Beth froze for the second time that day. Daryl stopped as soon as she did and listened. There was a loud creak, like the sound of the door opening, and without thinking, he shoved her towards a slim pine while he dove in the other direction, behind a thick maple. He heard Aaron drop to the ground as he slammed his back against the trunk.

Beth looked over from where she'd pressed her back against the pine tree and caught his eye. Slowly, she lifted a finger to the corner of her eye then dropped it to point at the house at the edge of the woods. Daryl shook his head minutely, scowling. Her eyes narrowed at him and he watched the muscle in her jaw work for a split second before she was gone in a flash of pale blonde hair and denim. Cursing under his breath, Daryl twisted to peer around the maple.

He saw her slinking around the trees, keeping her body hunched low, her hands on the ground as she stretched her legs in a crab-like scuttling until she reached an oak that straddled the open hilltop. She sidled up its trunk, reaching over her head and pulling herself up, her passage quiet as a sigh. As her upper body disappeared into the remaining leaves, he watched her boots find purchase on a branch and she balanced on the balls of her feet. Daryl took his eyes off her just long enough to look back at Aaron, who was chewing his bottom lip with an anxious expression as he lay flat in the leaves. He jerked his head in Beth's direction and the other man nodded.

There was a soft crunching when he turned back towards the cabin as Aaron got to his feet, and Daryl edged around the tree. He waited until the sound behind him stopped, then darted forward.

"Beth," he hissed, stopping under the one she'd climbed and tilting his head back.

She half-turned to look down at him, the corner of her mouth quirked up in an odd sort of smirk like she'd known he was going to follow and wasn't bothered by it. It pissed him off, but that look was also making his stomach clench in a weird way, almost the same way as when he'd caught her eyes across the bedroom earlier, a sensation that left him hot and tight from gut to groin. She turned back around, her hands braced at shoulder-height as she peered through the red-tinged leaves. Daryl growled low in his throat, frustrated. Shoving his arm against the tree, he leaned to the side just far enough to see the side of the cabin. Another of those large trunks was parked in the front of the furthest house. The front door of the cabin next to the one they'd stayed in was wide open. The curtains were pulled shut, concealing what might be going on inside. Aaron still had the binoculars too. Fuck.

Rustling above him pulled his attention back to Beth. She was shimmying her way back down the tree, her hands and feet moving in tandem as she then dropped to the ground, landing in front of him. Without a word, she grabbed his hand, startling him a little as she pulled him hard to the right, ducking beneath the underbrush and taking off across the grass. She skidded to a stop at the nearest cabin's side, throwing her back against its wall with a soft thud, and he was right beside her. She skirted along the wall, tugging him with her as she impatiently pushed her hair from her face with her free hand and peered around the corner of the building.

Daryl moved closer, dropping down into a crouch and pulling her with him as he crept to the end of the porch, their heads hidden by the tightly spaced rails and the tall, unkempt shrubs. When he got to the end, he let her hand go so that he could plant both of his palms against the rough wood. There was a sharp crack just as he leaned out, making him freeze. From his vantage point, he could just see the edge of the second cabin's porch. Two men, different than the ones before, came out empty-handed, both of them dark-haired and talking. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they didn't slow down, tying the flaps of the back of the truck down and climbing up into the cab. The truck rumbled away, and he waited out the heartbeats until it disappeared below the hill's outcropping.

"Better make sure there ain't no nasty surprises in there," he murmured to Beth, and almost jerked when he felt her hair tickle his cheek when she nodded. Fuck, when had she gotten that close?

Shoving his irritation aside, he angled his head over his shoulder and whistled lowly. As they waited for Aaron, he listened for any sounds to come from the cabins, but aside from the quiet crinkle of leaves under the curly-haired man's boots, it was quiet. Daryl almost snorted, because that was a damn cold comfort. Just from what he'd seen that day, walkers were the least of their concerns in these mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the amazing comments that y'all keep leaving for me! It's awesome to come home, check my inbox, and see all the love you guys have for this story! I'm so humbled and blown away by it. I adore writing for 'Feral' and it's so encouraging how much support y'all give me to keep writing. Thank you so, so much!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this new update! :)


	23. Chapter 23

The cabin was empty, except for the furniture that was pretty much identical to what was in the one next door. It even smelled the same, stale, but fairly clean. Without anyone asking, Beth posted herself near the door, her shoulder braced against the wall as she held it closed to a crack, watching the path down the hill. The temperature was dropping again as the day wore on, cold enough now that she could see her breath when it slid past her lips, and dark, heavy clouds were gathering over the valley. She tugged down the sleeves of her sweater with her fingers, rubbing at the hemline with the pad of her thumb and tucking her arm around her middle. Her knuckles brushed against the hilt of her knife, the cold handle a comfortingly familiar feeling.

She glanced back into the dim interior as Aaron and Daryl moved around the room, pulling open drawers, checking shelves. In all honesty, she had no idea what they expected to find. If there had been nothing to indicate these people's presence in the cabin across from them, and they were clearly going into all of them, then she doubted there'd be anything here either. Why would they leave anything here?

For once, that was a question that made sense to her. Why _would_ they leave anything here? There was nothing here, no evidence of walkers, no evidence of living people. Aside from the slight disturbance on the floor from their footsteps and those of the two men, it looked virtually the same as the other cabin. Untouched, undisturbed, and very different from the house further up the mountain. There was no scent of death or decay, not even a place within the cabin where anyone, walkers or people, could be hidden. The closet, the tiny bathroom, both of them were too small to fit a single person, much less two unless they stood in the shower stall.

So what was the reason that those two men stopped? Had they known that the three of them had spent the night on the hill? Beth angled her head to look towards the cabin they'd stayed in. They hadn't left much of a trace when they'd left that morning. The beds had been remade, things straightened if they'd been moved, their tracks obscured. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. They'd had no reason to suspect that they'd been watched. There'd been the sensation of it, a tickle on the back of her neck, but she'd attributed it to the overall sense of the town. She hadn't been entirely wrong in that, she knew, but it was clearly possible that she'd given the impression too much credit.

She flicked her eyes back to the edge of the hill, dividing her attention between listening for the sound of another engine and the muttered conversation of the two males behind her.

"Nuthin'?" she heard Daryl ask from the kitchen area.

"No," Aaron replied quietly. "Nothing." There was the sound of a drawer being slid shut. "Whatever they were doing in here, it isn't obvious."

"Probably jus' been checkin' shit over," Daryl said, the floorboards creaking softly under his weight as he walked around the couch.

He came to stand near her at the door, leaning his hip against the wall just behind her as he wrapped his hand around the door's edge and tugged it open just a fraction further. When she inhaled, she breathed in the scent of warm leather and cigarettes, and it mingled with the thicker aroma of coming rain.

Daryl grunted above her head. "Ain't goin' nowhere with tha' crap comin' in."

Aaron moved to the window just across from them and peered through the curtains. "Should be good to bunker down here. If they were just checking things out, then I doubt they'll be coming back for a while."

Beth turned her head and tipped it back to look up at Daryl. He raised his brows questioningly at her and she shrugged. He mirrored her, his broad shoulders lifting as she ducked under his arm and grabbed the backpack she'd set against the wall. The natural light from outside was fading, and what little was left cast long shadows across the floor. A small island separated the kitchen from the rest of the room, two cushioned stools neatly scooted beneath the countertop.

She pulled one out, slapping the pack on the bar's surface and tugging the straps loose. The flap fell open and she reached inside to pull out a rag and a bottle of gun oil. She then withdrew her revolver from the small of her back, checking the safety before flipping out the cylinder and unloading it. She bent over the bar, setting her weight on her elbows.

Daryl grunted and she heard him move from the door, his boots clunking heavily across the floor. She chewed on her bottom lip as she dabbed a couple of drops of the oil onto the rag. Just from the tread of his walk, she could tell he was tired. Normally, she wouldn't have barely been able to hear him at all. The couch made a quiet squeak as he sat down and she glanced over her shoulder to see him almost gingerly perched on its edge.

He scrubbed a hand over his face as he set his crossbow on the coffee table in front of him. Beth twisted around on the stool so she could watch him from the corner of her eye as she cleaned her weapon. Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing for a brief moment and she felt a tug in her chest. Deciding not to dismiss the urge, she got up and moved to sit beside him, keeping the barrel of the gun pointed towards the floor as she rubbed the gun down. The smell of the oil was strong, but not unpleasant.

Daryl cracked an eye open and glanced down at her. He dropped his hand to brace his forearms across his knees, leaning forward. "Hey."

She cut her eyes towards him, her head canting as she rubbed the rag over the cylinder with her thumb, cradling the rest of the piece in her palm. When he didn't say anything else, she blinked, her motion slowing. Her eyes darted back and forth as she groped in her mind, trying to remember if she needed to respond in some way.

After a minute, she said uncertainly, "Hey."

She watched as he seemed to search her face, his gaze narrowing on her. What was he thinking, she wondered. She could see the thoughts flitting over his features, but she couldn't identify them. It appeared to her as though he wanted to ask something, his lips parting, only to close again a couple of times. Thunder rolled distantly and there was a soft click that alerted her to Aaron closing the door.

"Wind's picking up," he said as she walked behind the bar. "From the looks of those clouds, I'd say that we're not the only ones that'll likely be hunkering down for the night."

Beth glanced back at the windows, biting the corner of her lip as leaves danced across the panes. Setting the rag and the gun down next to his crossbow, she stood up and crossed the room. Shoving the windows open with some effort, she pulled the shutters closed and latched them securely, then locked the glass. There was a rustling behind her and she knew without looking that the other two were doing the same with the rest of the cabin.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the resulting gloom and she went to the backpack she'd lain on the counter and dug out a couple of fat candles and a box of matches. She left one on the bar, lighting it then taking the second to the coffee table. Striking the match, she set the wick alight, shaking out the burnt wood and tossing it onto the table. The cabin was softly filled with yellowed candlelight. Beth lowered herself back onto the sofa as Aaron came out of the bedroom, double checking the windows and drawing the curtains shut to be sure that no light peeked through the slatted shutters.

Daryl returned from the bathroom and sank down beside her as Aaron took the chair just to the right, setting his rifle against the side of it. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Beth picked up the revolver to finish cleaning it, checking the cylinder chambers before getting up to retrieve the bullets she'd left on the bar and reloading it. Back on the couch, she left it on the coffee table and folded her arms across her chest, listening to the wind shudder against the house.

She let her eyes drift around the cabin for a while, her fingers tapping a simple, three-beat rhythm against her arm. Eventually, they landed on Daryl as he leaned over the table, watching his hands as he sifted through stacks of books left on the shelf just beneath its surface. He grunted as he pulled back with a pack of cards. He held them up in the dim light, half-turning towards her, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth and a glint in his eyes that was more than a bit wolfish.

"Care t'pass the time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the amazing comments that y'all keep leaving for me! It's awesome to come home, check my inbox, and see all the love you guys have for this story! I'm so humbled and blown away by it. I adore writing for 'Feral' and it's so encouraging how much support y'all give me to keep writing. Thank you so, so much!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this new update, it's mostly a quiet bit of interlude before more things hit the fan, let's everybody kind of catch their breath. :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new chapter for you amazing, lovely people! Thank y'all so much! :D

He'd figured on having to teach her how to play the game. He'd even figured on her picking up on it fairly quickly. He hadn't planned on having his ass handed to him every fucking round once the one-worded questions had stopped.

Daryl glared down at his hand as he leaned forward on the couch, his self-assured smugness at an evening of easy wins tossed down with his cards onto the table, growling, "Fold."

He rubbed two fingers across his chin, watching Beth's face with narrowed eyes. She didn't return the gaze, her expression mild from across the table where she sat on the floor. She slapped her own hand of cards down and reached to collect his and Aaron's to reshuffle into the deck. Daryl glanced at the curly-haired man who was lightly smirking, clearly amused, his fingers lacing together as he balanced his elbows on his thighs.

"Sunshine, I do believe you've got some kind of secret witchcraft in those hands of yours," he murmured, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked over at the blonde nimbly threading the deck through her fingers.

She gave him a small, shy smile while she split the deck, gently bending the cards back, then over as she bridged them with a fluttering snap. The candle shimmered as a puff of wind slipped through the shutters, cold and damp. Beth handed the deck to Aaron and he flicked his finger against the top card.

"Alright, five card stud, high-low, low hole card wild-"

Daryl snorted. "Quit tryin' t'sound like a riverboat gambler and jus' deal."

Aaron shot him a playfully reproachful look but did as he was told, sliding the cards over the coffee table in smooth motions.

"Well, I was trying for authenticity, but if you insist…"

He snorted again, grabbing his cards and fanning them out in his hand. His mouth twisted in disgust as he flung four of them in Aaron's direction. "What kinda shit you passin' out, man?"

"Every round, the bitching never fails," Aaron said to Beth as they exchanged a long-suffering glance before her mouth curved and she started biting her lower lip, obviously trying to keep something from leaping past it.

Daryl gave her a sour look as he caught the cards Aaron flicked towards him. "Laugh it up, but tha' horseshoe you've got shoved up yer ass is gonna fall out eventually."

He'd half-expected her to blush at the crudeness of his comment, but her brows merely rose, her lips still twitching like mad. She held two cards out towards Aaron, accepting their replacements and sliding them into her hand. Daryl watched her features closely. The woman had one hell of a poker face. Hardly anything gave her away, except her eyes. He always knew when she had a good hand because those irises would light up, an almost impish gleam reflecting in the dim candlelight. That light also caught in her hair, turning flaxen strands to tawny fire. His gaze followed the curve of her jaw, committing to memory how her skin had been warmed to a flushed, golden tone that made her eyes seem a deeper, richer blue.

"Alright, Daryl, whatcha got?"

Realizing that he'd been staring, he snapped his eyes back down to his cards with a scowl.

"Two pair," he muttered, throwing them onto the table. "Kings and threes."

Beth tilted her head forward, still nibbling on her lower lip. She looked over his carelessly strewn cards, then looked up as if double checking that it was her turn. At a nod from Aaron, she gently splayed the cards in her hand, holding them out over the table.

Daryl swore. "Straight flush? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Beats the hell out of my three of a kind," Aaron said, chuckling as he dropped his cards and stood up, stretching his arms out. "I think we'd better let someone take a shift at the door for a while." His hands fell to brace on his hips. "I doubt the calm's going to last very long."

Beth glanced towards the windows, a frown pulling her brows together, making them furrow. Without a word, she pushed up from where she'd curled her legs under one another and walked to the door, re-taking her position from earlier that afternoon. Unlocking the door, she opened it a crack, checked the porch, then shut it again and moved to the window. The shutter creaked softly as she pushed it back a fraction, drawing her legs up on the wide sill and peering out into the dreary twilight.

Aaron nudged the side of Daryl's boot with his, pulling his eyes away from her. "Get some sleep. You look like death warmed over."

He grunted, giving the other man a dirty look as he braced his fists on the cushions and stood. His knees cracked with dull pops, making him grimace. Shit, he was getting old. The thought brought his gaze back to the slender blonde at the window, made him aware of how her face was still just barely rounded, the last remnants of her youth. Never had he felt the gap in their ages as acutely as he did right then. How many years did he have on her? Fifteen, at least. The thought brought another scowl across his features as he moved around the end of the couch, snatching up the throw blanket that had been draped across its back.

Silently, he chucked it at her, feeling a little mean and smirking to himself anyway as it landed over her head. He turned back to the couch while she sputtered and flailed beneath the heavy wool, Aaron shaking his head as he retreated into the bedroom. Daryl blew out the candles on the bar and the coffee table, then flopped back down onto the couch, crossing his legs at the ankles as he stretched himself out on the cushions. Aaron hadn't been lyin'. If he looked anywhere near as tired as he felt, he wasn't winning any beauty contests. Not that he would be anyway, he thought with a wry twist of his lips as he folded his arms under his head.

He let his eyes close as he drew in a deep breath. What the hell was he doing?

He'd asked himself that question last night and he still didn't know. Tipping his head back on the arm of the sofa, he could see around the back of it. She'd pulled the blanket off her head, ruffling her hair into an even wilder mess, wisps of blonde sticking out before she smoothed her hands over them, trying to chase away the resulting static. The darkness painted her in different colors than the soft candlelight, her skin turning to cream and the gold in her hair became a muted version of the silver sheen it'd taken the night before. Her scars were stark in the murk, slashes of snowy white on smooth porcelain.

Beth cut her eyes towards the couch, catching his. He stiffened, unsure if she could see him or not. It felt like she could. It felt like she was staring right into him. Daryl found himself waiting for that knowing curl of her lips to form like it did on so many other people who thought they had him figured out. Even knowing that it was Beth and that she wasn't the kind of person to do that, and even with reminding himself that she knew even less about him now than she ever did, he found himself waiting for that shoe to drop; for her to disappoint him, to gut him, for her to give him a reason to walk away, and to keep walking. In the space of a heartbeat, the trust that had built between them felt like ash, a fragile and brittle thing that would crumble at the brush of a fingertip.

His stomach lurched when she uncurled herself from the windowsill, her hair spilling down, catching on the blanket's coarse fabric as she crossed the short distance to the couch. She blocked the slim beam of illumination that slithered through the shutters slats, the outline of her body vanishing like smoke into the deeper dark of the cabin, her lighter hues becoming varying shades of shadow. The tread of her boots was practically nonexistent over the hardwood floor, her steps silent except for the whisper of the blanket's edge trailing along the planks.

Daryl didn't move, not even when he felt the couch cushions bow out at his elbow where she leaned over the back. Her knuckles ghosted across his bare arm and he knew that she was clutching the blanket around herself, like armor. Did she feel like she needed to protect herself from him? He tried to dismiss the question as soon as it occurred to him, but it was hellbent on circling in his skull. She lingered there, hovering over him, the tips of her hair tickling over his skin and the smell of summer was in every breath of air he took, making his belly warm and his heart thump hard against his ribs.

He felt torn between a desire to hold still and wait for her to move, to see what she'd do, and the need to bolt. An even more insane urge struck him to haul her over the couch and pick up where they'd left off the night before. His muscles strung themselves tight, hot blood streaking south as his body let him know which idea it liked best and he bit back a frustrated groan. His fingers curled into his palms, blunt nails digging into the calloused flesh hard enough to break the skin.

What the _hell_ was he doing?

Dozens of reasons of why he shouldn't, why it made no sense, why it was a bad idea, why he needed to tell her to go back to the window and stay there were clamoring in his head even as another dozen were yelling the opposite. And the one that was the loudest, the one that came from both sides, was that in the 30 plus years he'd walked this earth, Beth Greene was the one person in the whole of it that had ever been a true, honest-to-God friend to him, the best he'd ever had. Rick, Carol, Michonne, the people at the prison, they were family, dearer than blood. But _Beth_...Beth had never really fit into that box. At first, she'd just been on the periphery, someone that needed him, like everyone else had needed him. Then after the prison, when she'd burrowed into the shell he'd built and torn it wide open, all of the shit he'd been forcing down thrown out into daylight for both of them to see, she'd jumped about three steps forward into a niche all her own.

And at the funeral home, when she'd sung for him, her voice warm and sharply sweet like a sun-ripe blackberry, and the candles had caught the gold in her hair like they had tonight...

He didn't let himself fall any deeper into the memory. Trouble was, he could claim that she was his friend well enough. Weren't no need or point in denying that, but he couldn't say, not even to himself, that was all she was. He didn't entirely know what she was.

He damn near jumped out of his skin when he suddenly felt something soft flutter across his temple, a light pressure that he might not have believed had been real if it weren't for the gentle breath that blew across his skin and the fingers that carded through his lank dark hair.

"Daryl...sleep," her voice was quiet in his ear, a reassurance in her tone that he could interpret.

She was there. She wasn't going anywhere. She gave a damn.

It was like a goddamned elephant sat up from where it's been squatting on his chest and he could actually breathe. A tightness he hadn't recognized loosened its fist and he relaxed against the cushions. He felt them shift as she straightened and her footsteps retreated back the way she'd come, but the warmth at his temple where her lips had touched him lingered long after she'd gone. When he did let himself drift into sleep, she was still there, a figure of moonlight and fire that kept watch in his dreams, and that held the nightmares at bay with a gaze that was like summer cornflowers.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the lovely, supportive comments! I'm just tickled pink that y'all are enjoying this! Here's a new chapter for you amazing, beautiful people. It's still a bit shorter than I usually post, but I hope the content makes up for it. Please keep telling me what you think, your responses have been so unbelievably helpful and encouraging. It makes me feel like I'm taking this in a good direction. Gah, I just love you guys! Best readers ever! :D

It wasn't long before he started groaning in his sleep.

Beth glanced away from the window, ignoring the pattering rain that splattered against the glass. Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned towards the darkened interior of the cabin, her eyes darting back and forth as they re-adjusted to the gloom. Silently, she eased up from where she'd perched herself on the sill, listening. Nightmares?

Another groan, low, rumbling.

She'd toed off her boots a while ago and set them down on the floor, gently, so as not to awaken Daryl and Aaron. Now, she swung her legs down and stepped around them, padding across the room in worn white socks. Lifting her arms, the blanket hung around her slight frame like gawky batwings before she rolled her shoulders and pulled it over them, draping herself in it. She didn't know why, but she liked the feel of being enveloped in it, musty as it smelled. Probably because it was warm.

She reached the back of the couch and carefully leaned over it, doing her best to keep her weight from shifting the back cushions. It was too dark to see much, but she could make out the faint outline of Daryl's shape stretched out. Something rustled and she could only assume that he was twitching in his sleep. Wriggling one of her arms free, she pushed back the edge of the blanket and carefully reached her hand out towards him. Her fingers bumped against his arm, the muscle beneath his skin bunching under her touch. She followed the line of it up to his shoulder, using it to guide her, then up to cup his cheek with her palm.

"Daryl," she called softly, keeping her hand still. "Daryl?"

He grunted something she felt more than heard. She smoothed her hand up to his forehead, felt how the skin there was relaxed, unfurrowed, and she frowned. He didn't seem distressed, but those sounds...

Then without warning a large hand whipped out and grabbed her by the arm. With a squeak, she was hauled forward, tumbling into the tiny space between Daryl and the back of the couch. Instinctively, Beth twisted around, wiggling as her limbs became pinned within the confines of the blanket and Daryl's weight as he rolled onto his side with a sleepy snort. Her eyes prickled as her hair was caught beneath her back and she struggled to get an arm up to pull the strands free.

That was it, she was slashing every last blonde hair up to her ears.

Her face hot with frustration and fury, she managed to turn onto her side, facing the couch. Her hand dug into the plush cushion as she tried to worm her way up and out. Her legs were tangled up in the blanket. She kicked a bit, trying to dislodge the restrictive fabric, but then Daryl shifted against her, draping his leg over both of hers and his arm snaked around her middle. He pressed closer and she felt his breath on her neck as he stuck his nose against her skin, like burrowing into warm covers. It wasn't unpleasant, but when she flinched away out of reflex, he followed and within the space of a couple heartbeats, her face was smushed into the cushions and it was getting hard to breathe.

Holding in a vexed growl, she snapped her arm straight and pushed back, uncaring if she woke the man beside her up or not; she just wanted him off so she could inhale!

She gulped in a lungful as she twisted her head to the side, and tried to work her other arm free. That was when Daryl seemed to have had enough of her slithering, at least subconsciously. His hand slid up her side, following the dipping curve until it met her shoulder. He wrapped himself around her then, his palm settling on her forearm, just above her wrist as he simultaneously pushed them forward, further onto the couch, and tugged her back so that she ended up with his body almost completely wrapped around her own.

Her first instinct was to buck, panic threatening to choke her. She felt suffocated, trapped between the cushions and him. Her muscles tensed as she reached up to curl her fingers around his arm.

"Beth."

She froze, her heart beating hard against her ribs as she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. She had no idea why she felt the need to do it, but it did calm her a little. In increments, she relaxed, focusing on her breathing. She was warm. She was safe. The arguments were more persuasive when she wriggled onto her other side to face Daryl, his hold just loose enough that she could manage it. That was when she could finally unknot the tight ball of agitation in her gut. She let her head drop onto the arm of the couch, her forehead resting against the underside of his jaw. Her arm slipped under his. Daryl tilted his head in his sleep, nuzzling against her hair and it made her mouth twitch. Better. This was better. Not scary. Not threatening. She breathed again and smelled cigarettes and leather. Comfort.

Although, she seemed to be the one that really needed it right then. Her head tipped back, just a little. With both hands finally free, she lifted one back to his face, slow and careful. Her thumb landed on his temple and she felt something flutter beneath its pad. To her surprise, he was still asleep. Hadn't he just called her name? Had she imagined that?

She chewed on one corner of her lip as she idly stroked her fingers down his cheek. No, she didn't believe that it'd been her imagination. He wasn't having a nightmare then. So what had those groans been about? He blew a short breath through his nose against the crown of her head and she tilted her face back down. She needed to move back to the window soon. It'd be a while yet before it was time to get Aaron for his turn on watch. But that warm feeling...it felt good. Her hand dropped, her fingers curling beneath her chin and her heartbeat now an even, slow thrum that matched his. It was only for a minute longer, then she'd get up. Just long enough to tuck this sensation around her like her blanket, something she could use to ward off the feelings of wrongness that whispered from the back of her skull.

When she next opened her eyes, light was just beginning to creep into the room.

She blinked, her eyes blearily adjusting to the dimness, the cabin bathed in pre-dawn grey. Pins and needles were racing down her legs, stiffness stabbing at her neck and making her gasp when she tried to ease back from where she'd nestled her body into Daryl's larger frame.He'd sort of folded himself around her, one arm under his head while the other had slipped further around her waist, holding her tightly against him. His breaths came in quiet snores, which she'd never heard from him before, regular and deep. She wondered if it meant that he was just sleeping that hard. Unusual.

"Daryl?" she asked softly, brushing her fingertips against his neck, his hair tickling her knuckles.

Something expanded in her chest when he just slid his chin over her the top of her head, squeezing her lightly. It made her lips curl up. She pulled back carefully, hoping that she wouldn't wake him and felt her mouth quirk up higher when he made a low noise that sounded like a protest. Instinctively, she nudged her nose against his throat, letting her cheek rub against his and he fell quiet again. The rough scratch of his beard was familiar, invoking memories of the night before. As they darted through her mind, warmth became heat, making her pulse jump.

Beth scooted upwards, wincing lightly when the crawling sensation in her legs intensified with her movement. Ignoring it, she pulled a bit further back, enough to look into his face. Filled with a sense of bold curiosity, she touched a fingertip to his lips, tracing their chapped contour and remembering how it felt to have them moving against hers. Feelings she didn't entirely understand where flashing through her so quickly that it nearly took her breath, a want that she couldn't quite get a grasp on occurring to her, only to flit away again.

What did she want?

The question made her lower her hand with narrowed eyes. Did she know what it was that she wanted? She didn't think that she knew them all. What did she know? That she felt at ease. That she liked where she was right then. That she liked being close to him. That she liked  _him_.

Did she want him?

The question confused her. What did that mean, exactly? She wanted to stay close to him. She wanted him to survive, wanted to survive with him. He made her feel...better, good...right. Had he always done that? Not for the first time, she half-wished that she could remember more of him from before. She thought that he had. Maybe not always, but that he had.

Beth pushed back the fringe of his hair, letting the questions go when her head gave a warning throb. Whether he had or not, she didn't think it was all that important. He made her feel like this now. And she thought that was a good thing. A better thing might be getting up and actually taking her watch like she was supposed to have been doing. Guilt coiled coldly in her belly. The door was latched, but she still should have been keeping an eye out, in case. This wasn't safe.

It felt safe, though, a tiny voice inside her mind argued. Daryl felt safe.

In that moment, she added another want to the list; she wanted him to  _stay_  safe. She'd do what she could to make sure of that.

She leaned forward and softly brushed her mouth against his. It was intuitive, made her feel warm and good again. He mumbled something when she eased away from him and off the couch, something that sounded like her name again.

Thinking that it might be made her feel warm and good too.


	26. Chapter 26

The sun still hadn't broken past the clouds when he woke up. Fuck, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept that good. Stretching, Daryl sat up on the couch, pushing a blanket off his legs. When'd he get one? He scrubbed a hand down his face and yawned. Glancing up, he spotted Beth still at her perch on the windowsill, her arms wrapped around her middle and her legs bent at the knees as she stared out the glass pane. He looked down at the blanket at his side, his features relaxed. She'd probably covered him at some point with it. Explains why he woke up so warm.

With a grunt, he pushed up and shuffled towards her, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye. A glance out of the window revealed a darkly overcast sky, threatening more rain.

"Anythin'?" His voice was gruff like gravel even to his own ears. She shook her head, looking up at him from the corner of her eye with a strange expression. "What?" She shook her head again and didn't answer him.

He frowned down at her but didn't push, changing the subject instead. "Ya hungry?"

Beth shrugged, turning away from him with a distracted look as she swept her fingers through the blonde waves that fell around her shoulders. He wondered what she was thinking about, was tempted to ask, but then decided that it wasn't his business. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him. He dug into her backpack, groping inside until he pulled out a small can of peaches. Retrieving a fork from one of the drawers in the kitchen, he cracked the tab on the top and chucked the lid onto the bar. He speared a piece of fruit from the thick syrup and popped it in his mouth before handing both the can and fork to her, a silent offer to share. She took them from him silently, her eyes moving back and forth over the yard as she fished out her own thick slice.

They traded it back and forth without a word. Daryl watched her in his periphery as she handed the can back to him, trying to get a read on her mood. Her features were smooth, but her gaze seemed distant, a little cloudy with thought, and her posture was relaxed. She seemed...reflective, more than anything. He glanced back towards the bedroom. A large lump was visible on the bed closest to the door, covered in a deep green sleeping bag. Aaron'd be getting up soon, he figured, but he might have enough time to talk with her about the other night.

A small pulse of heat throbbed below his belt as his mind was drawn to memories of soft skin and warm honey. God, she'd tasted good. Wonder if she'd taste any sweeter with that syrup making her mouth look wet an-

It took more effort than he cared to admit to rein that train of thought in. It took a lot more to keep his eyes off the streak of juice on her chin that he wanted to lick. _Fuck_ , he'd have put odds on just how good other things would be under his tongue, like-

Get a grip, Darlina, Merle sneered. Girl had an itch. Ain't no more than tha'.

Daryl ignored him, shoving the last peach into his mouth and giving her the can. "Ya can have th'rest," he said thickly, clearing his throat after hearing how raspy he sounded.

Beth took it from him without looking up, sipping from the tin like it was a cup as she bent the shutter back a little further to see another angle of the yard. Pale blonde strands tucked themselves against her cheek when she inclined her head to get a better look. Reflexively, he brushed them back from her face as he leaned over her back.

They'd been real damn lucky so far. Aside from the town itself, and the cabin further up, they'd run into minimal walkers. And whoever these people were, they hadn't found them out yet either, seemed like. He rubbed the side of his index finger across his mouth thoughtfully. If the rain held off, they could make a run for the vehicles, get the fuck out of Dodge, come back when they had numbers. He had a feeling that neither Beth nor Aaron would want to leave this group to whatever the hell it was they were doing. He couldn't say he was crazy about it either; there was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about what they'd seen yesterday.

And what kind of fucked up shit had that been?

They hadn't really discussed it last night, a mutual, unspoken agreement that it was something they wanted to put out of their heads until daylight. Daryl glanced down at the crown of Beth's head, a thought occurring to him, one that he hadn't really paid much attention to, hadn't really wanted to. But he figured in the grand order of things that they needed to talk about, this one was probably at the head of the line. And that was the heart of it.

Talking.

Daryl stepped around the dark brown boots that she'd set neatly on the floor, sitting on the sill opposite of her, his back resting against the wall and propping one leg up. He balanced his forearm on his knee, letting his fingers dangle in the air as he fixed her with a steady gaze. He really didn't want to push this, but he didn't really know how to be anything but straightforward. Pig-headed s'what Merle called it. So he just jump-straddled it.

"You ever gon' tell me why you ain't talkin'?" Her eyes snapped to his, looking startled, and he scowled at her, his shoulders tensing. "I'm fuckin' thick sometimes, but I ain't stupid, Beth. I noticed."

She had the good grace to look sheepish, even apologetic, and he relaxed. Beth tucked stray waves behind her ear before her fingers moved to the back of her head. He could see them working back and forth like she was rubbing.

The exit wound.

_"I get it now," she said quietly. Deadly quiet._

_He'd never heard her use that tone before, but he'd heard it out of other people. It made the hair on his arms stand up. He understood what that meant a fraction of a second too late._

_Time slowed down. A shot went off like a cannon in the small space and her head jerked back, crimson staining the sunshine blonde strands._

_He went cold. Pulled the pistol out of his waistband before the thought had even crossed his mind._

_Didn't stop to think, didn't stop to look. He couldn't._

He glanced away from her, unable to look at her in the eye at that moment. He'd thought it likely stemmed from that day, either because of trauma or damage from the shot itself. Guilt was churning in his gut like acid, eating at his insides and leaving him with a hollow feeling. No matter how many times it had flashed through his skull, and it had more often than anything else in the months that followed their escape from Atlanta, it didn't change. He'd lay awake nights, running it through his head, again and again, playing out scenarios where he was just that hair's breadth faster, grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him, shot that bitch between the eyes before Beth even had a chance to step in front of her. Truth was, he didn't even know if it had been Dawn to pull the trigger. The angle had never been right in his mind, but it didn't matter.

She'd been the one in front of his girl. She'd been the one that paid, but even then, he'd known she wouldn't be the only one. At least there was nothing to haunt the dead. But every waking hour of his life after that first shot had been tied to it.

Slender fingers slipped against his, lacing together and giving a firm squeeze. He looked up. Beth was staring at him with her big blue eyes. Doe eyes, he thought.

"Stop," she said softly.

"What?" he asked, his voice gruff.

" 'membering." She watched him as she said it, her jaw set in that stubborn line like she was going to will him to stop; like she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

She probably did.

Then she looked down, squinting at the windowsill as if it had the words she needed. Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and said, slowly, carefully, "They...made me...wrong." She tapped a fingertip against her temple, her mouth twisting oddly. "Talkin'...sounds...not right." Her voice became a little ragged as her eyes reddened, brightened, and it made him feel like an asshole for wanting her to try. "Don't like hearin' it." She swiped the back of her sleeve across them, making his chest tighten. "Don't like...soundin' like this." Her expression was angry as she lowered her hand, gazing at the damp spot darkening the material and made a low, frustrated sound.

Daryl was torn between a desire to keep holding her hand and the need to dig Dawn up from whatever hole the people at Grady had dropped her into and shoot her again. Fuck if she was the one that pulled the trigger or not. It was her fault Beth was sounding like this, with her breath hitching painfully and droplets catching on her pale lashes. They weren't blameless either, not by a long shot, but he'd take damn fine pleasure in popping another slug between that cop's eyes. If Beth hadn't been so damned set on getting one up on that bitch. If he'd spotted that look a split second quicker-

It was a lot of fucking 'what ifs'.

His fingers spasmed around hers as he glared out of the window darkly. His attention was brought back to her when she squeezed again. The look on her face made a lump rise in his throat. She was waiting for him to say something. Fuck, he should say something, he was the one that brought it up for Christ's sake. But he didn't know what would comfort her, make her feel better. Pig-headed. So he said what he honestly was thinking right then.

"I miss hearin' you talk," he told her roughly. "Not the yammerin' you used t'do, jus'...yer voice." He inhaled, figuring he could kill two birds with one stone in this conversation before adding, "Like when ya say m'name. I like tha'."

It was as much as a confession to what he felt as he could make right then, but, to his relief, her expression cleared a little as her head canted.

Her voice was soft as she said, "Daryl."

Another bolt of heat slid down his spine, because Jesus fucking Christ, she sounded like she was _tasting_ it, and the air between them was changing, the tension shifting so fast that it threatened to make his head spin. Suddenly she was kneeling on the sill in front of him, eye level, her right hand still laced with his left while the other rested on her lap.

"Daryl," she said again as if she was trying it's fit in her mouth and fuck if that comparison didn't send his thoughts into a tailspin.

She had a look of concentration on her face and it took everything he had to stay still as she leaned past his knee to touch the pad of her thumb against the corner of his mouth while her fingers rested against his cheek. He briefly considered telling her that he liked how much she touched him too.

"Say mine," she said huskily, something in her tone that he didn't recognize, the words somewhere between a request and a demand.

Daryl swallowed, his mouth dry.

"Beth."

Something like satisfaction darkened her eyes and he wanted to say her name again just to see what else would change in her features. He wanted to haul her back into his lap and finish what they'd started the other night. He wanted to give in to his previous urge and find out if her skin was as sweet as he knew her mouth would be with the aftertaste of sugary fruit still on her tongue. But she beat him to it, shifting her thumb away and replacing it with her lips as she pressed them to his in a soft, quick kiss. It was light, simple, and she was pulling away before he was ready for her to. His head fell back with a thud against the wall, biting back a growl that tried to rumble up from his throat.

As his eyes followed her padding into the back bedroom to presumably wake Aaron, the thought crossed his mind that he was never going to be able to eat peaches again without thinking of Beth and how sweetly she made him burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Squeal* Gah, you guys are just so sweet and awesome! Thank you so much! Please, please keep the comments and kudos coming! And I hope y'all enjoy this new chapter, I had more than my fair share of delight writing it. ;)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new chapter for you amazing, lovely people! Thank y'all so much for the encouragement and support! :D

It was more than she'd said in a long time. It was more than she'd ever been willing to admit, even fully to herself. But Daryl seemed to have a way of drawing things out of her without really trying. She couldn't decide if that was good or not.

Beth glanced at him, ducking her head as they picked their way down the slope that led into town. The sky was still overcast, more rain a promised taste in the air. Sticking to the denser parts of the woods, the buildings were invisible behind a thick screen of pine needles and underbrush. She preferred it that way. No way of knowing who, if anyone, was watching them. Too many places where they could be. Too many chances the corpses that marked their trail through the town had been found. Daryl and Aaron were both disappointed, she knew. They'd wanted to find good people.

_There are still good people, Daryl._

_I don't think the good ones survive._

She winced, brushing the back of her hand across her forehead. The good ones don't survive...did she agree? Did it matter?

She glanced up at Daryl's broad back, her eyes briefly tracing the curve of the angel's wings that stretched from shoulder to shoulder. Unconsciously, her head dipped a little. Daryl was a good person. He mattered. And he would survive.

_You're gonna be the last man standin'._

Wet dirt was a heavy, pleasant scent in her nose. It smeared her jeans where she'd slid down a steep embankment. She didn't bother brushing it off. It masked the smell of her flesh, of her blood pumping. Her lungs were starting to burn as fiercely as the muscles in her legs. Thinner air this high up. She tried not to think about how she knew that. Chalk it up to something that leaked out of the dark corner. But the conversations she'd had with Daryl the last couple of days. Or the ones he had with her. She might be saying more, but she still wasn't really saying  _much._ At least, it hadn't seemed like much to her, anyway.

_"I miss hearin' you talk," he told her roughly. "Not the yammerin' you used t'do, jus'...yer voice. Like when ya say m'name. I like tha'."_

Beth bit the corner of her lip to keep the smile that wanted to bloom from forming. She'd tried her best to let him know that she liked it too. And she was pretty sure that while she might have trouble with verbal communication, Daryl had no problem hearing her loud and clear.

She lurched towards a tree, wrapping her arm around the trunk and using the momentum to skid the rest of the way down to more level ground. Daryl was ahead of her a couple of paces, Aaron off to the left. The newly cleaned pistol was tucked into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, a cool, welcome weight.

No one had been entirely thrilled about the idea of heading back to the safe zone empty-handed, but they agreed that whatever this group was up to, it was too much for them to handle alone. The walkers, they could handle, short of a herd of them, but she was starting to think that this group may very well have a small one that they were using to booby trap some of the houses on the mountain. And for once, why might be pretty damn important. Although, she'd be the first to admit she wouldn't have thought so if Aaron hadn't said as much.

"Why?" he asked as he'd eaten his cold breakfast of beenie weenies. "Why'd they put them in there like that, unless they have some way of knowing people are in the area." He'd pointed to the listening device sticking out of his backpack. "What are the chances that we're the only people to have equipment for checking other groups out?"

"I'd believe we were th'only ones with a decent reason fer it," Daryl had growled while rubbing his chin.

Good people might be out there, but that didn't mean they had to run on blind faith. That was what she took from the conversation, anyway. Smarter not to trust folks like that, or so she thought. Better to watch from a distance. That much of Aaron's recruiting style, Beth agreed with. The bringing them back for a trial run in the zone itself...that was stupid risky.

Sheep. There always comes a day when they let the wolves in.

It might have already happened, for all she knew. The idea made her skin prickle. Going back might have made sense, but she didn't like it. At least out here, she felt like she had a chance. There was no one smiling at her or trying to touch her or begging her to remember things that she couldn't. No pretenses, no illusions, no playing at a normal that didn't exist and that she couldn't recall clearly. She knew that things had been different before, had been a lot like the world Alexandria was trying to fold itself back into. It'd been easier, in some respects, worse in others. The things out to kill you were more subtle than a herd of walkers or every other group with guns and a sense of entitlement to whatever they came across.

The safe zone was a throwback to that world, but it was like a shadow of it. You hardly had to do more than scuff the toe of your boot at the perfectly manicured lawns to see that the roots were rotten. The phantom of its all too clean scent wafted past her nose, making her wrinkle it. She bent down and scooped up a palmful of loose earth. Lifting it, she breathed in, chasing away the unpleasant smell. She scrubbed the dirt between her hands with a soft grunt of satisfaction.

They edged around town, avoiding the road until they had to cross it where it began to climb up again, on the other side of the valley. It was a pretty good hike, taking a large chunk of the day. By the time they wound up to where the parking lots started lining the highway, it was late morning. Beth kept a wary eye behind them, pausing every now and then, but the only thing that drifted up from the valley below was the wind. Daryl picked up the pace as they crossed into the open lot at the top of the slope and Beth trotted to keep up. They pushed past the treeline where they'd parked the bike and the car as Aaron scouted out the road leading east.

Suddenly, her eye caught sight of something odd on the ground. She grabbed Daryl's sleeve, bringing him up short as she pointed down to three sets of tire tracks.

"Shit."

He ducked under a branch with Beth right on his heels. They rounded a trunk and Daryl let loose a string of curses, throwing the backpack off his shoulder to the ground as he snarled.

Gone. Both of them. Beth let out a breath, scanning the ground. Deep black ruts dug into the earth, tracks covering over one another, some days old, likely theirs, and some that hardly looked more than a day. Maybe before. That feeling on the back of her neck when they'd cleared out the walkers in the town proper hadn't been her imagination. Small comfort, she thought wryly. Worse than that was the idea that their trek back to the car had been anticipated. That thought set her on high alert, lifting her gaze to search the nearby trees. Nothing.

And nothing for it. She glanced at Daryl as he started to pace, two steps one way, then the other, hurling low obscenities at the discarded branches and crushed leaves. She half-twisted to look back the way they'd come. This, at least, confirmed that they'd been watched. Maybe even since they came into the valley.

"Go back or walk," she murmured, turning back to him as he glared at her. She groped for the right word before adding, "S'our options."

She moved past him and crouched down. He was still growling as he squatted next to her, but he didn't argue with her, both of them casting their eyes over the muddied ground. Aaron caught back up to them, his eyes immediately going to the spot where they'd hid the vehicles and found nothing.

"Shit," he breathed out, raking a hand through his curls.

"Yeah," Daryl replied darkly before pointing to a set of footprints running parallel to the bike's tread-marks. "Ain't gon' find nuthin' once they hit the pavement, but if they had a couple guys stragglin' along behind 'em, might can track 'em." His eyes were flinty when he looked up. "Zone can't afford fer us t'lose them vehicles."

"Better losing them than us," Aaron countered, dropping to one knee on the other side of Beth. "One of the few things we can't replace." Daryl's jaw tightened, but Aaron pressed on. "Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but it'd be better if we tried getting back in one piece than if we ran back down there half-cocked."

Beth glanced at the two of them. Aaron was making sense. As long as there was fresh water between here and the safe zone, they could make it. She'd seen traces of small game on their way up here, and even a couple of deer trails when they'd spent the first night by the road. Might take a few days, but they could do it.

But she also knew the look that was one Daryl's face. Slowly, carefully, she said, "Knew." She gestured to the tracks. "Meant this."

He stared at her hard for a long moment. Then he exhaled harshly, rubbing his hand across his mouth. "Yeah, I know. Be stupid goin' after 'em now. Fuck, I hate losin' 'em, though. And the supplies."

"We might get lucky and find something we can use to replace the car on the way back," Aaron suggested.

Daryl just grunted as he pushed up and Beth followed him. She took the backpack from where he'd dropped it and settled it over her shoulders, adjusting the straps to fit her smaller frame. Reluctantly, at least on Daryl's part, they started east. Like before, they stuck to the woods, keeping the road in sight to their left. They'd hardly gone more than half a mile before Daryl stopped them, dropping low. They followed his lead and he pointed towards a bend in the highway.

"See that?" he asked in a gruff whisper.

Beth crawled forward on her belly and slightly lifted a low hanging shrub branch out of the way. Two of the large convoy trucks they'd seen yesterday were parked back to back, men with rifles leaning against them, and in the cabs. On the other side of the ditch, barely visible, she could make out several others either perched in the trees or taking a position in the underbrush. It was sheer luck they hadn't been seen. She turned to look back at the other two. Both men were grim.

Silently, Daryl half-turned to point over his shoulder, back towards the mountain. They'd try and go over, away from the road. Beth jerked her head down in agreement, a lead weight settling in her stomach. She had a feeling it wasn't going to be that simple.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just don't have the words to express how much the wonderful comments and kudos you guys leave means to me. It's amazing and humbling and so, so encouraging. Thank you for being such supportive and responsive readers! I hope y'all enjoy this new chapter, things are about to start getting REALLY interesting in the next few updates. ;)

Daryl scowled down at the bottom of the slope. They'd climbed further up, angling north to avoid the main road. And it didn't make a lick of difference, apparently.

Beth crouched beside him, her eyes focused on the trees below. Barely discernible, a small deer stand had been camouflaged between two maples. He might not have spotted it if a stray wind hadn't disturbed some of the burlap that'd been used to cover the window opening. As far as he could tell, it was empty. Much as it chafed to wait it out and make sure, he figured it was better than taking the chance of being picked off with a rifle.

It pissed him off royally, almost as much as the fuckers stealing his bike. Somebody had earned a bolt in their ass for that. Maybe right through the sack, depending on how bad it looked when he got it back.

And he _was_ going to get it back. Might not be anytime soon, but he could be patient when he wanted to be. Keyword there was 'want', but he'd already bent his mind in that direction. He'd get it done, one way or another. Same as he was going to get them out of these mountains, or damn well try. Daryl kept his eyes locked on the stand. They had to be careful, couldn't take a chance of being made. Bad enough if someone took a shot at them; worse if they were followed back to the safe zone.

The tree behind them rustled softly, an audible indication that Aaron was still watching their back from his vantage point in the pines, the binoculars slung around his neck. As long as there was potential for a glare from the lens, they'd stay there. The three of them had been damn lucky no one on the road had seen them or hadn't seemed to, at any rate. He wasn't taking it for granted, though and neither was Beth and Aaron. They were all on pins and needles, alternating point, rear and flank as they trudged up the eastern side of the valley. It'd been slow going, doubling back in some cases to make sure they weren't being tailed, obscuring their tracks, keeping their treads firm but quiet. Daryl's blood was up, his heart thudding hard and dull against his ribs. Adrenaline had been a quick breath from dumping into his system all morning, making it a fight to keep his muscles loose.

He'd read somewhere 'bout a flight or fight response, how a person could hop between the need to get the hell out of a situation and beat the shit out of something. He figured he probably toed that line pretty much all the time anymore, but today he'd felt like every nerve in his body was a hair trigger waiting to kick into one or the other.

Without looking, he silently reached out and tugged on Beth's sweater. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head. Good, she didn't see anything either. He angled his head over his shoulder and whistled soft and low. More rustling came from the tree as Aaron dropped from the branch to the ground. Quick and quiet, they gave the stand a wide berth and slipped down the embankment to climb up the other side. They avoided exposed rocks, scrambling up through thorn vines and thick brambles just because they offered better cover, although that wasn't saying much. The air got thinner the further up they went, and what did get drawn in through his mouth and nose was so sharp and so cold that it made each lungful feel like breathing acid. His legs ached from the constant climbing. He hadn't dared let them stop for more than a couple minutes at a time, determined to put as much distance between them and the people behind them. The sun crawled almost as slowly as they did, finally breaking through the clouds only to inch across the sky in increments that Daryl could have sworn matched their pace.

Their stride started to flag just when they were in sight of the peak. Daryl had noticed Aaron falling behind a little further with every couple hundred of feet of ground they covered. He'd just started looking for a place that offered more than bare minimum concealment when the other man dropped to his knees, panting, his forehead covered in sweat despite the season's coolness. Beth stopped short, then turned on her heel and crossed the few feet that separated them. She dropped down to kneel beside him, unslinging her backpack and producing a bottle of water from within the canvas. She handed it to him.

"Drink slow," Daryl warned him sharply when Aaron pushed himself up and wrenched open the cap.

He glanced at their surroundings, noting the thick set of the trees and the stray boulders that had tumbled down only be stopped and caught on older, larger stones. Probably as good a place to stop as they were going to get this high up. He caught Beth's eye and she nodded to him, leaving the backpack next to Aaron and slipping back down the slope until she was out of sight. Daryl squatted next to Aaron as the other man flopped onto his bottom, stretching his long legs out with a wince.

"See any signs anyone was comin' up behind us?" he asked quietly, and Aaron shook his head.

"No, but that doesn't mean that they weren't." He chuckled, but there was no humor in his voice as he added, "I'd like to think that we got away clean, but I don't know anyone who's luck is that good. Mine sure isn't." He glanced at Daryl side-eyed. "Yours might be."

Daryl snorted, but otherwise didn't respond, his hand hanging off his knee as he watched the place where Beth had vanished from sight. He hoped like hell she could remember how to whistle. Or maybe them colt legs of hers could sprint back in time for them to get a move on again in a hurry. They really couldn't afford to be taking this break, not with the threat of pursuit hovering over their heads. Then again, they couldn't afford somebody collapsing either, or one of 'em breaking something just because he was in too big a fucking hurry to make sure their footing was good.

His leg started to bounce as he kept his gaze divided between watching around them and keeping an eye out for the blonde. What the fuck was taking her so long? He'd about convinced himself to get up and go check when Aaron spoke again.

"So when were you going to tell me about you and Beth?"

The question made him freeze. He blinked, sucked in a breath. As he blew it back out, he asked, "Wha' were ya lookin' for me t'say?"

It was Aaron's turn to snort, although it sounded more like a cough as he took another sip from the water bottle. "If you'd said something that first night, we wouldn't have offered two rooms."

Daryl damn near swallowed his tongue. Aaron passed him the bottle with an almost smug look that wouldn't have been nearly as fucking irritating in different circumstances. He took a swallow of the water, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"You ain't answered m'question."

The curly-haired man's features shifted into a reproachful look. "How about admitting it, for starters? Then maybe give me one of those gruff, half-assed apologies you're so good at and we'll drop it for now."

Daryl glared at him. "We're down two vehicles, a trunk full of supplies, we're dodgin' a whole nest of psycho, shit-faced ass-wipes, we're bein' run up a fuckin' mountain, we got no roof in the middle of goddamned winter, an' you want me t'give ya a run-down of a love life tha' I ain't got, an' tell ya sorry for not sayin' somethin' sooner? Wha' the _fuck_ crawled into yer brain and shit there?"

He regretted it as soon as the words jumped out, but if Aaron was bothered, he didn't show it.

"First of all, it's still autumn and we have a sleeping bag, along with extra clothes in the packs. We're not without some cover. Second, the odds of you getting caught out with your pants down are about the same as a snowball's chance in hell, especially when you're bound and determined not to, so I'm not worried about anyone keeping up with us. And third, I reiterate that you suck at apologies, but if you want to claim that as one, I'll let it slide, but only because we're running up a goddamned mountain."

He said it so flatly that it took Daryl a minute to see the gleam in his friend's eyes. When he did, he scowled and moved a couple feet away from him, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against a thin pine. Where the hell was Beth? Quiet stretched between the two of them for a long moment before Aaron broke it again.

"I'm glad, you know."

"Hmm."

"I am." Aaron looked up at him earnestly. "First time I ever saw you really smile was that night when we had spaghetti with her. She never said a word, but you looked at her like she was the only one in the room."

Daryl didn't contradict him. He couldn't because that day had felt like the first one that had been real since he'd lost her. The memory floated back to him in pieces that he mentally pushed away. But they were stubborn, reminding him of how he couldn't stop looking at her, even when he was talking. She was a dream made real. How many times had he imagined finding her? How many hours spent pulling her image to the front of his mind, cataloging, memorizing every strand of pale hair, every fleck of periwinkle in those wide doe eyes? Eyes that he'd been so sure he'd never see again. He'd convinced himself that summer would be an endurance for the rest of his life, with its scent of hot grass and sunshine and flash storms.

The silence settled back between them and this time Aaron let it be. Daryl glanced at him, wondering what was going through his mind. Despite his lackluster performance with cards last night, the man could be damned unreadable when he wanted to be.

Soft footfalls echoed up and both of them straightened, Aaron clambering to his feet and pulling his rifle over his shoulder. Beth appeared from between two saplings. With her dark, drab clothes, she blended into the background nearly perfectly. She was getting good.

_I'm gettin' pretty good at this._

Daryl lowered his crossbow, watching her. She canted her head at him and he could read in her features that she hadn't seen anyone.

"We keep pushin' up," he said in a low voice. "Probably can get over and down the other side before dark. Might be better t'hole up before tha'. See what we run into."

Neither of them argued. Daryl handed Beth her pack. She went to take the rear position again, but not before he gripped her arm tightly for a split second, reassuring himself that she was indeed right there. It was one of the biggest reasons he kept touching her. It wasn't the only reason, but it _was_ the only one that he was willing to own up to. A voice at the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Merle called bullshit. He ignored it. It was easier than admitting, even in his own mind, that he might agree.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being so late with this update. I had a lot of things come up in the last week, but I'm back now and hopefully regularly updating about every other day like before. Thank you all so much for your patience and support! :)

She shifted quietly, hugging one arm around the slender trunk of the pine she'd climbed. The sweet smelling sap stuck to her skin and clothing. The bark was rough under her palm, scratching at her skin. and leaving amber smears across her fingers. The sun was already starting to set, its glow turning the sky the color of orange sherbet as it set over the mountain behind them. Their trek over the peak had been slow, and hard. The terrain was rocky, pocked with holes and dips from the sandstone that'd been eroded loose, some of them dangerously camouflaged by thick clumps of underbrush. She'd have broken an ankle or worse if Daryl hadn't grabbed her by the arm and stopped her from walking headlong into one.

Beth shifted again, squinting as she strained to see beyond the treetops, down to the road she knew curved below them. Carefully, she leaned closer to the trunk, hoping that the thick needles would obscure any potential glare from the binoculars she lifted to her eyes. With the sun at her back, it was unlikely there'd be any reflection, but it was better to be safe. Her breath pushed past her parted lips harshly.

She could barely make out the thick canvas tops that covered the back of the trucks, but they were there. If she could have recalled the words, she'd have cursed. What was that one that Daryl said so much?

Fuck.

She repeated it out loud, low and sincere as she dropped the binoculars back to her chest and started to climb down. The bottom of her boots touched the earth and she turned to see Aaron with his back set against the trunk beside her. Her eyes immediately searched for Daryl, finding him pacing back and forth in a deceptively lazy lope between two other trees across from them. His thumbnail was between his teeth and his crossbow was held tightly in the other hand, pointed down. Tension screamed from him, in the set of his shoulders and the whiteness of his knuckles around the stock of his weapon. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she stepped to him and he paused in his circuit, staring at her with a narrowed gaze.

"Trucks," she murmured, pointing down the mountain. "Several of 'em."

"Shit," Daryl swore, turning from her and starting to pace again.

Beth exchanged a look with Aaron. They were exhausted, all three of them. As slow as they'd been getting over the mountain, they still felt dogged. No overt signs of pursuit, no prickle at the back of her neck signaling that they were being watched, but there was an uncomfortable sensation between her shoulder blades, an instinctive certainty that appearances were just that, and that danger was lurking just beyond the reach of her physical senses. The urge to continually glance over her shoulder was nearly overwhelming, and she had to fight not to indulge it every couple of heartbeats.

Aaron's gaze was sharp from his position against the tree, following Daryl's restless movements. "They're herding us."

It was their fears put into words, she could tell by the swoop in her own belly and the way Daryl's shoulders stiffened.

"No shit," he growled, dropping his hand from his mouth. He came to the end of his stride and stopped to stare down the mountain.

Beth fingered the knife at her belt, tapping it with one blunt nail as she braced a hip against the pine behind her. The likelihood that the other roads leading out of the valley would be blocked was damn near a certainty. They could circumvent them, but it'd add days, if not an entire week for them to get back to the safe zone. And there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be hounded every step of the way. If there was even a slim chance that these people had trackers, the risk existed that they'd lead them right back to Alexandria. Aaron and Daryl knew it too, or it'd at least occurred to them. They wouldn't have been quite as reluctant to make a move if it hadn't.

She wanted to let out a growl of her own, frustration knotting her muscles, making her skin itch. Irritated, she raked her fingernails over her arm briskly, scratching through the thick material of her sweater. The indecision was wearing on her nerves. They had to move. There was an undercurrent of urgency threading through the cool air, twitching in her calves as she bent one leg at the knee and let it bounce. The quiet that had soothed her when they'd initially left the zone now made her edgy, restless. Even the ground under her boots felt tight, coiled, hard packed clay with no give to it. It felt like a warning.

The silence stretched on as Daryl seemed to wrestle with whatever was going through his head, his thumbnail back at his mouth. As he gnawed at it a low rumble echoed up from below. Not waiting for him to tell her to, Beth scaled back up the tree, ignoring the burn in her legs. Wrapping her arm around the trunk, she stood on the highest branch that looked thick enough to support her weight. Fumbling with the binoculars, she put them up to her eyes, scanning the line of trees below. Finding the snaking path that was the road, she watched as two of the three trucks pulled out, each going in an opposite direction.

She bit her lower lip. Opportunity? She wasn't sure.

Beth scampered back down. Daryl was waiting beneath her and she dropped beside him.

"Two trucks gone," she said in a quick, halting whisper, holding out her arms to indicate their separation. Then she held up one finger. "One left."

The two men exchanged a glance.

"Worth it?" Daryl asked gruffly as Aaron rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw.

"Maybe. Depends on how many people they left."

"Ain't nuthin' we can't handle. Could use tha' truck," Daryl speculated quietly.

Aaron stared at him consideringly for a long moment, before lifting a broad shoulder. "It beats walking. Lot of 'if's' though."

Daryl acknowledged the point with a grunt before tilting his head back down to look at Beth, the question clear in his features. She nodded towards Aaron, her arms folding over her abdomen.

"Risky. Worth it, maybe." She frowned, her brows pulling together to form a small wrinkle. "Maybe," she repeated, quietly emphasizing the word.

Silently, she met his gaze and tapped a finger against the binoculars around her neck. Check things out, see what we see was the unspoken communication and Daryl caught her meaning with a nod of his own.

"Aright." His eyes flickered between them, hard and cold. "Don' fuck around."

Beth thought the warning was more for Aaron's benefit than hers. Killing didn't come naturally to him, she had been able to tell when they first came into Picksville. Not that it did to Beth or Daryl, exactly, but she didn't lose sleep when she lived to see another day and whatever was trying to keep her from it didn't. He'd do what he had to, but it weighed heavier on him. Maybe it was supposed to. Maybe that was part of what made her wrong. She glanced at Daryl out of the corner of her eye. Did that make him wrong too? Her initial thought was no, but if she was wrong, could that opinion be trusted?

They were questions that made her head twinge uncomfortably, so she ignored them. Her gut hadn't been wrong, even if her mind had been. She'd put what little faith she had in her instincts. So far, they hadn't given her reason not to. Daryl hadn't either, a tiny voice pointed out.

She watched his back as they picked their way down. It'd never been a question if she could trust him. Why was that? Irritation spiked at the question and she scowled, her eyes dropping to the rocks under her feet. Always 'why'. Her head felt like it was full of 'why's' when it had never been before that day outside of the safe zone. Morgan had never inspired such questions. Nothing she'd seen or experienced while she'd traveled with him had either. She hated it, hated that it poked and prodded at the convictions she'd held to be true, that each time she asked it, another one in the same vein danced in her mind. Was she ever going to get another moment's peace in her own head again?

Probably not at the rate it was going.

Her mouth pressed into a thin, tight line as they slowed near the bottom of the slope, taking care to move as quickly and quietly as possible. The truck was slightly obscured by the brightly colored leaves and needles still clinging to the thick copse of trees that lined the ditch this side of the highway. Keeping low, they split up, Beth and Daryl flanking to the left and right as Aaron settled himself on the ground just out of sight of the road, sighting down the scope of his rifle. Her knife was already in her hand, her thumb unconsciously making a circling pattern just beneath the guard.

Adrenaline was bouncing through her system, threatening to spiral her muscles tight even as she willed them to loosen. She pressed herself against a tree, her eyes warily flitting up and down the road, and along the treeline opposite, seeking out any hint of movement. Two figures were huddled inside the truck itself and there were others on the other side of the road, a bit further up the highway. At least three were visible, crowding together and talking, one muscular looking woman smoking a cigarette as she casually held her assault rifle down at her hip. Unconcerned, confident. No sheep to be found here.

That made her a lot more excited than it probably should have.

Angling her head back, she held up her hand towards Aaron, all five of her fingers spread wide. He turned and made the same signal to his right, where Daryl had hunkered down out of her line of sight. The curly-haired man made a curving motion with his hand towards her. Without more than an acknowledging glance, she crouched, slipping the knife between her teeth and using her hands for balance. She needed to stay below the side mirrors, and the truck was tall enough that, if the driver wasn't paying any attention, the road itself became a blind spot.

Grass shifted to hard, scraping asphalt beneath her hands as she slinked forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of black. Daryl was making his way around the other side. Sparing a quick peek up the road towards the others gathered there, she bent forward to peer under the truck, watching his boots as he eased towards the passenger side. She waited, forcing her breaths to come steady and even. When he was right at the door, she slipped up straight, her hand curling around the door handle and wrenching it open.

It squeaked almost as loudly as the driver, his dark brown eyes opening wide as she grabbed the collar of his ratty plaid shirt. There was a flash of movement at his waist and intuitively, Beth twisted herself sideways, barely missing being gutted by a wicked looking, serrated combat knife. Despite his surprise, the bastard had damn good reflexes. Using every ounce of her petite one hundred and ten-pound frame to haul him bodily from the truck. Stubbornly hanging on, she followed him down, using her momentum to land her knees hard on his chest, expelling the air from the man's lungs forcefully. Taking advantage of the split second of immobility, she snarled as she sliced his throat viciously, the flesh tearing. He made a choked sort of gurgle as she leaped off him and immediately rolled the dying man into the ditch.

Dropping to her belly, she looked up the road again. No one had looked this way yet. But they likely only had seconds. She pushed up to her feet, started to turn when a rough hand grabbed her shoulder. Beth spun, knife already up when another hand gripped her wrist with a grunt of surprise. She was running on autopilot, her knee already coming up before a thigh slipped between hers and an arm grabbed her around the middle, pinning her. She bared her teeth.

"Beth!"

Her name came out in a hiss, making her freeze just as she'd tipped her head back. She blinked.

Daryl.

He held her hard against him, glaring down at her with an expression she didn't recognize. He looked...almost oddly pleased, despite his scowl, maybe even eager. His gaze was dark, watching her face like he was daring her to attack him again; like he _wanted_ her to. There was something feral in his eyes, dangerous, predatory, maybe even challenging. She recognized it, knew it as one she'd worn before, that she was probably wearing now. Her blood was a fire in her veins. She wanted a fight. She wanted to _hunt_. She wanted to _be hunted_. It was a thrum in her head, humming down her body and making her want to break free from him, to run and taunt him to give chase. Did he want those things too?

Something was stretched tight between them, making something else low in her body clench. She searched his face for some clue to what he was thinking. She shifted against him, pressed herself unconsciously closer to see better, and the blue slowly bled from his eyes, drowned out by the black of his pupils as he stared her down. It was suddenly hard to breathe - like air couldn't force itself past the heat that was slowly creeping up into her cheeks. Her belly did a weird flip-flop as the scent of fresh blood washed over her nose, coppery and strong. He was splattered with it, blackish red stark on his cheeks, and she had a sudden urge to fight him, just to see what he'd do. An even stronger one rose up right on the first one's heels, making her want to reach up to her tiptoes and flick her tongue over a tiny droplet that stained one corner of his mouth. Reflexively, she licked her bottom lip. As if he knew what she was thinking, she felt the low sound he made rumble in his chest where he towered over her.

That wasn't right...was it? It felt right. Maybe it felt a little too right. Was that wrong?

A flurry of movement to their right had them immediately stepping away from one another, the moment that had seemed to stretch into a lifetime suddenly cut short in the space of a heartbeat. Her knife still in hand, she tensed, then relaxed as Aaron hurried out of the trees. Without a word, and without giving herself any time to think, the three of them piled into the truck, Beth squeezing between them as they slammed the doors shut. Daryl gunned the engine, crashing his foot down on the gas. The group ahead of them scattered as they barreled past them, sending them hurtling off the road, too surprised to even lift their guns.

She angled herself on the bench seat so that she was facing the back of the cab, watching the road behind them with narrowed eyes. Lucky. But for how much longer?


	30. Chapter 30

Daryl cursed loud and long as he struggled to keep the big truck on the road. An hour of driving the fucking monster and he'd about had it. Apparently, nobody thought it was important to keep the damn thing running decently. It jerked and shuddered, the wheel so loose he half-wondered when it was going to just twist off into his hands like some fucked-up cartoon. Swerving around a sharp bend, Beth was thrown against him, Aaron's weight pressing into her from her other side with a grunt. The tips of her hair tickled his cheek as the truck righted itself.

He glanced at her, noting that she'd twisted herself around to stare out the back window. "Sit right or yer gonna end up flyin' out," he told her, more harshly than he intended, but the visual was in his head and it unnerved him.

If she was offended by his tone, she didn't show it, obeying quietly and turning forward in the seat. She stayed pressed against him though, her arm wedged tightly next to his as Aaron groaned, his features pale as Daryl whipped the truck around another curve.

"You gonna puke, do it out the damn window," he snapped.

Aaron turned his face towards the door, covering his mouth with one hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beth reach out to him and run her hand in soothing circles on the curly-haired man's back. Daryl felt a flash of sympathy for him, but he didn't dare slow down. The last little bit of daylight was fading fast, but they had enough gas in this beast to get them a little more than halfway back to the safe zone, he reckoned. That was if they didn't meet up with any improvised roadblocks. He flicked on the headlights, yanking on the weathered knob and dim, yellowed beams flooded the road ahead of them. They wouldn't be able to take the direct route that'd taken them into the mountains. Too big of a chance that they were going to be followed. They'd have to take a long way around, but that was a better alternative than just leading the fuckers right to their front gate.

"Get out tha' map and gimme an idea where t'go," he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the engine's grinding groan.

Beth unslung her pack, untying the cord that kept it shut with one hand while she kept the other on Aaron's back. Fishing out the flashlight, she clicked it on and stuck the end between her teeth. The light bounced as they slammed into a pothole, Daryl swearing and hoping like hell at the same time that one of the tires wouldn't blow out from the impact. They held although it didn't seem like Aaron could, fumbling at the window and sticking his head out. The acrid smell of bile wafted through the cab as he leaned his head out of the truck, making both Beth and Daryl wince.

With both hands now free, Beth dug into the pack, finally pulling out the battered map and unfolding it across her lap. Her slim index finger traced a swirling pattern as she tried to get her bearings, glancing between the road and the thick paper draped over her thighs. Her long blonde hair whispered against the chart, a soft scraping sound as the strands flounced on the rough material with every dip and bump in the highway. He ignored the urge to reach over and wrap his fingers in it, even if all he wanted to do was make the distracting sound stop.

Plucking the light out from between her teeth, she nudged Aaron with her elbow. With another moan, he pulled his head back inside, leaving the window down. He leaned over Beth's shoulder, his skin sallow as his glassy eyes tried to focus. She pointed to something on the map and looked up at him.

"Should be a turn off to the left in the next couple of miles, I think," he said, sounding strained as Daryl slid into another curve. "Th-guh!" He clamped his mouth closed and threw his arm across the lower half of his face as his eyes slammed shut. Daryl heard him take several shuddering breaths before he dared to talk again, his voice muffled. "The map says there's another little town that way. Says Lycroft. We..."

He trailed off, and Daryl finished for him. "Hn, might find somethin' there. Got an eastbound road goin' outta it?"

Beth tapped a finger against the map and nodded. "58."

"That'll work," he replied.

Sure enough, the road came up on the left. Daryl swung onto it. Beth sat up, craning her neck to peer back the way they'd come as he slowed down. Trees were thick on either side and he pulled the truck onto the shoulder, just out of view of the highway that ran perpendicular to them. Abruptly, he shifted into park and cut the engine.

"Give it a few minutes," he said gruffly, cranking the old-fashioned lever that pulled down the driver's side window.

The wind was a hushed rustle, chilled and quiet as they waited, none of them hardly daring to breathe. They'd been bold as brass balls, and they all knew good and well that even if it'd taken the people they'd left on the road time to call for back-up, it _had_ been called. They didn't have a good idea of the resources these people had either. At a guess, they were well-equipped to pursue if they were inclined. Daryl hoped like hell that they weren't.

On the one hand, it made sense. They'd know from the supplies that had been in the trunk of the Vick that the three of them had a base or a cache. They'd make that assumption, and they wouldn't be wrong. There was always the possibility that they'd assume the opposite too, that they were drifters that happened to wander through the area. Unlikely, but it could happen. Worst case scenario, they believed the three of them were scouts looking in on whatever operation they had going in those mountains. No matter what they thought, it was obvious they were going to eliminate whatever potential threat trespassed on their territory. The only way Daryl didn't see them right on their heels is if they had no idea which way they'd gone. They'd bought themselves time. The question was how much?

Considering the current lack of it for everyone these days, he doubted they had a whole lot of it.

For the short amount of time they sat there, though, there was no indication that anyone had been following them. Daryl strained to see into the gathering dusk, his arms tense where he held tightly onto the wheel. He felt Beth curl her fingers around his bicep, grasping the material of his sleeve as she gently pressed down, pulling herself closer to him. He glanced at her, but she was focused on the road, eyes narrowed. Blood was drying in fine, dark specks across her cheek. He knew none of it was hers, she'd been too damn quick for that poor bastard, but seeing it still made his gut tighten.

Because it could have been hers.

He pushed the thought away as he reached down slightly to crank to twist the keys in the ignition sharply.

"Looks like we're good," he muttered, stomping on the gas pedal and making the truck lurch forward.

Beth fell back onto the seat next to him, her hand dropping to the map still on her lap. Aaron groaned on the other side of her and kept his head out of his window. Daryl left the one on his side down too as he pulled back onto the road.

"How far t'Lycroft?"

Beth flicked her flashlight on again. She made a soft sound under her breath before answering, "Couple hours, maybe."

Daryl grunted in acknowledgment and she folded both the map and the light back into her pack. Setting it on the floorboard between her feet, she settled back into the seat, her hip pressed up against his as Aaron knelt on the far side of the cab. He rested his head on his arm, letting the cold air whip over his face. Hopefully, with a smoother road, his stomach would settle.

"We shouldn't pull right into town," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind. "They could have more people there too."

Daryl's response was infinitely more patient than he felt. "I figured tha'. We'll pull off when we get a chance. Grab some shut-eye and see what we see."

Aaron made a noncommittal sound and Daryl glanced over to see that his eyes had closed. Beth reached out to him again and gently started rubbing his back. The woman had a nurturing instinct in her a mile wide. It made something in his chest loosen to see that hadn't changed. Tough as all hell, but somebody she gives a shit about so much as has a belly ache and she's the first one to offer whatever comfort she could. God help the jackass stupid enough to cross her.

He'd seen firsthand the ruthless streak that came with that instinct.

Daryl frowned as he stared out of the windshield. She hadn't even hesitated when they'd taken the truck. Not that he'd really expected her to, but killing people was different than walkers. It was a heavier thing, could make it harder to sleep at night if you had any doubts. After what they'd seen at that fucking cabin yesterday, he didn't, and he figured that Beth didn't either. He shifted in the driver's seat, resisting the urge to gnaw on his thumbnail. At least, she didn't seem to. He hoped she didn't. She didn't need any more fucking nightmares than what she'd already been through. The thought had guilt churning icily in his belly.

He felt her move beside him, then the slight weight of her head as she rested her cheek against his arm. He snuck a glance at her and saw that her eyes were closed. Her hand had stilled on Aaron's back and as his eyes flickered between her and the road, she dropped it to the seat beside her. Looked like the day had finally caught up with her. He peeked at the top of her head, remembering how she'd swung around on him earlier. For a few seconds, Beth wasn't there, replaced with something completely wild, running on adrenaline and instinct. And Jesus fucking Christ, seeing that had done things to him. He'd been hard as a fucking rock, the temptation to shove her up against the truck and sink his teeth into the pulse point he could see fluttering almost too much to resist. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she _wanted_ him to. When she'd licked her lips, he'd almost given in right then, the memory of what that pink tongue was capable of ratcheting up the urge to overwhelming. His cock twitched in his pants thinking about it now.

Shit, get it together, man.

He turned his attention back towards the road, trying to ignore the warmth that bled through his jacket from where she gently breathed against the black denim. Couple more minutes and she'd be out.

Sure enough, the rest of her body slowly sagged against his side, her temple on his shoulder. Daryl let out a breath, torn between mild exasperation and a quiet kind of fondness at how she managed to always find a way to be right up on him. Mindful not to jostle her, he dropped his arm to curl it around her slight frame and brought her more firmly against him. Using his knees and one hand, he kept the truck in the middle of the highway, scanning the trees every now and then for anything that might wander out of the woods. This was going to be the longest two hours of his life. He looked down at her again as Beth burrowed into his side, her nose nuzzling his chest, warm and soft.

Well, it might not be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot, new chapter! Thank you all for the beautiful comments y'all leave me! I'm thrilled beyond belief that so many people love and enjoy 'Feral' so much! Thank you for being such a responsive and amazing audience for this story that I adore writing. :)


	31. Chapter 31

They pulled onto an old logging road a couple of hours later. The truck lurched and shuddered as Daryl shoved the gear shift into park, waking Beth with a jerk. He cut the lights and the world instantly became black. Beth blinked sleepily, her eyes adjusting by degrees. The silence was almost deafening after spending so long with the constant rumble of the engine, but Beth found herself grateful for it when he switched the ignition. Aaron seemed to be too, pulling himself upright with a groan.

"Did you have to take _every_ turn on two wheels?" he asked weakly, scrubbing his hand over his face.

"Dunno why yer complainin', you were asleep for most of th'ride," Daryl muttered, wrenching open his door with a metallic squeal.

He slid off the seat and landed on the ground next to the truck, rolling his neck as he stretched. Beth followed him, scooting until she could dangle her legs down out of the cab. She poked him with the toe of her boot and he shifted aside to let her down. With a small hop, she stood in the deep rut of the road and lifted her arms high. Grunting, she let them fall and bent each leg, relishing the burn of her muscles as she tensed, then relaxed them.

She heard the door on the other side of the truck swing open creakily as she bent her body back, her spine cracking and popping and leaving her with a loose, limber feeling. Sighing in relief, she swung her backpack off her shoulders and untied the flap, digging out the blue beanie and gloves Aaron had given her days ago. She pulled it over her head snugly, rubbing her ears before tugging on the gloves as well. Wriggling her fingers, she then tucked her hands under her arms and half-turned to look at the truck. She could see the top of Aaron's head as he disappeared around the passenger door before he rounded the front of the cab.

Tugging it from his pack, he tossed his sleeping bag over his shoulder. "I've got first watch." He ticked his chin towards the back of the truck. "I'll set up in the bed, best view of the road."

Daryl made a noncommittal noise as he rubbed his hands together, breathing over them. "You gonna be good back there?"

Aaron patted the material draped over his shoulder. "It's insulated, I'll be alright. Wake you up in a few hours?"

Daryl nodded and Aaron walked past them, dirt and sand a dull crunch under his boots. Beth looked at Daryl quietly and he made a shooing motion towards the cab. "Go on."

She clambered back into the truck at his prompting. It was less cramped with Aaron in the back, but it was still going to be a tight fit. She leaned over and shut the passenger door as Daryl climbed in after her, the driver side slamming behind him. Beth slid towards him on the seat, and he lifted his arm obligingly, either too tired or too cold to argue with her about personal space. As she thought about it, she realized that he hadn't insisted on that space at all in the last couple of days. She wondered at that but kept it to herself. He was warm and comfortable, much better to lean into than the door on the other side of the cab. She didn't see much point in reigniting whatever issues had made him put distance between them when they'd been sleeping at Eric and Aaron's.

She tucked herself against him, her eyes still heavy with the small amount of sleep she'd gotten on the ride. Her arm wrapped around his waist, her fingers, cold from outside, seeking warmth under his jacket. He hissed in a breath when they burrowed under the hem of his shirt.

"Damn, Beth, did ya stick 'em in ice when I wasn't lookin'?"

She snorted and just burrowed herself deeper into his jacket, sighing at the smell of cigarettes and leather. How did that smell always seem so good? His hand slid up to cradle the side of her head, the rough scrape of his calloused fingertips over her hair making her body feel like it was melting like heated butter. Gently, she traced a lazy circle with her index finger on his side, the skin there warm and smooth. Her other hand was cupped beneath her chin, curled and relaxed.

His fingers stroked through the strands that weren't trapped by her beanie like he was taking as much comfort in the action as she was, and she made a soft, appreciative murmur. Her fatigue ebbed, replaced with a simple, content drowsiness. It felt good, being here, like this. There was a sense about it that made the jumbled mess in her head smooth itself out a little more, quieted the jangling, broken thoughts that tried to worm their way out of the dark. She was safe to let it go, to let what memories she had drift without focus or direction.

_His shirt was soft and worn against her cheek as she wrapped her arms around him, wanting to comfort him, to make that pained expression on his face disappear. He was stiff against her and she felt an embarrassed panic start to rise in her chest._

_"I'm glad I didn't say goodbye. I hate goodbyes," she told him, intending to let go, her arms already loosening._

_But then she felt his hands come up to cradle her elbows as his body relaxed, his cheek barely brushing against her hair and his breath a warm puff next to her ear. "Me too."_

Moving intuitively, Beth tipped her head back and ghosted her lips over the hollow of his throat, letting the recollection wash over her, wanting to soothe, to show him that his being there meant something to her. He was a solid presence, someone she could hold on to when the storm in her head threatened to break her mind wide open and sweep everything she was, everything she'd been, out of reach. He was the one constant, even if he hadn't been with her for every step of the way. She felt that he'd been there with her for the big parts, even if she couldn't remember them. He held so many of the pieces, and yet it never occurred to her to ask for them, even if she could find a way to.

Daryl sucked in a breath at the touch of her mouth against his skin and she kept still, her lips no more than a hair's breadth from him. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, quick and hard, vibrating in the confined space between her mouth and the point of his pulse. Repeating the action, she dragged her lips across that spot again, pulling her hand out from under his shirt to reach up and slowly skim her fingers down his stubbled cheek, a grazing touch. He shuddered as she trailed softly up the column of his neck.

"Beth."

Her name sounded like a plea, low and quiet and full of things she had no names for. She stretched up to push lank strands of his hair back from his face, her fingertips tracing his ear as her nose bumped lightly against the hinge of his jaw. Her blood was a soft simmer in her veins. This wasn't the heat that had charged between them earlier in the day. She didn't want to run. She wanted to be closer to him, to remind and reassure him that he was important to her, that she was grateful they were both alive, that they were still together, although she couldn't have said why she felt the need. The words were beyond her grasp, much as they had been that day she'd told him she hated goodbyes.

_You matter._

His hand stayed in her hair, his arm angled over her shoulder as she leaned up, so that she was eye level with him. It was too dark to see his expression but under her hand, his features felt tense. She brought her other hand up, cradling his face between her palms as she leaned her forehead against his. Her lips hovered near his and then she closed the distance in a series of soft, light brushes of her mouth. He didn't respond at first, letting her touch him as she liked, but then his fingers in her hair flexed and tightened. He leaned into her, kissing her more firmly.

Her lips parted, but Daryl just wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer, until she was molded against him from chest to thigh. His hand was warm and rough where it rested on the small of her back, under her shirt. Beth continued to caress his face, her fingers slowly, gently stroking, unconsciously mimicking the sweep of his thumb where it rubbed against her skin.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, his mouth a sweet, languid pressure on hers that would hold for long, dizzying seconds only to move away, take in a breath and then return. He was as real as the cold air that lightly stung her lungs when she breathed, like the leather she could smell and the taste of smoke that seemed to linger on his lips. The fingers in her hair moved to cup her cheek, his thumb sliding across the thick line of her scar and making her shiver. It was grounding, and it was electrifying, intense and gentle in a way that she would never have expected.

When they finally did part, she was surprised to feel how her lips were curving upwards, just a little. A foreign feeling made her chest flutter, all warm and light like a bird's wing. Shifting again, she slid back down so that her bottom rested once again on the seat. He angled his body so that his back was resting in the corner where the seat met the wall of the cab, his arms still cradling her against him. She wrapped both of hers around his middle and pressed the side of her face into his chest.

"Get some sleep," he told her in a hoarse whisper. He cleared his throat, then said gruffly, "Gonna have t'take watch in a couple of hours."

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his shirt, drowsiness creeping back into her bones and making her eyelids droop. Her mind was blissfully quiet, and for the first time in a long while, she felt right in it, like she knew who she was, what she was supposed to be. It wasn't something she could have defined. It was just a feeling. Sleepily, she tucked her chin against her shoulder and squeezed her arms around him, a lazy kind of hug.

How did he make her feel like that? Like she was...good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Whew, it feels so good to be updating regularly again. Last week was almost painful, not being able to write like I wanted to...
> 
> Thank y'all so much for all the support and love! :D


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, thank you guys so much for all the lovely feedback for the last chapter! I'm glad y'all enjoyed it, that one was one of my favorites to write so far. You guys are so awesome! :)
> 
> Also, I just wanted to give a shout-out to Amy, forever_as_it_should_be, Brandy, Rachet, tinkerbell74, Natercia, em_c_writes, and nolairishangel! You guys almost always leave beautiful, amazing comments for me, and several of you have been here since the beginning. Thank you for reading along as this story unfolds! I couldn't keep writing without y'all and the support and encouragement from you guys. Thank you!
> 
> And here's the latest update!

Their turn on watch was uneventful, if cold. The back of the truck was empty save for a couple of sticks and the smell of old meat and gasoline. Daryl tried not to think too hard about where the stench came from. He shifted in the early light, blowing hot breath on his hands as his eyes focused on the mist that had rolled in about an hour ago. He tugged up the collar of his jacket, ignoring the mild look Beth was giving him from the other side of the truck bed. He'd handed her the sleeping bag with a glare that clearly indicated he wasn't going to put up with any protests. To her credit, she'd taken it without so much as a blink, but that didn't mean he couldn't see the amused quirk of her mouth every time he shivered.

"Quit smirkin'," he growled at her, noting how the tiny smile vanished whenever he looked at her fully, replaced with an expression of profound innocence.

If she kept it up, he was going to give her something to smirk about. Like the night before, when she'd leaned into him, all warmly sweet and sof-

His pants constricted almost painfully and Daryl ruthlessly stamped down on the urge to haul her across the small space between them, the need so strong his muscles twitched with it. A small voice in his head argued that at least it'd be warmer than sitting all on his lonesome, but he snuffed that out too. Time and place, and this weren't it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of cornflower irises focusing on him, her bottom lip disappearing between small, even teeth before she turned her head towards the trees. Heat flared low in his belly and he silently cursed. Fuck, she wasn't doing _anything_ and he wanted to do things that could have made even Merle turn five shades of red.

He lifted his hand and started gnawing on his thumbnail, keeping his gaze determinedly fixed on the woods, focusing his mind elsewhere, _anywhere_ but on the memories of last night. The trunks grew thick, and close together, obscuring the road almost completely from view. So far, they'd seen and heard nothing, and Daryl was almost willing to call them lucky. But he had a nagging inkling that getting away from those people wasn't going to be so easy. Even if no one came down the same road, that didn't mean there weren't people waiting for them in Lycroft. There were other roads leading into town, stretches of asphalt that came nowhere near the highway they'd taken. He couldn't see anybody with the kind of manpower this group seemed to have let anyone get away with killing two of their own and hauling ass with one of their trucks. Those weren't things that could be ignored. At least, he wouldn't have been able to ignore them.

A soft click drew his eyes across the bed of the truck and he saw Beth balancing her revolver in her lap, her knees drawn up under the sleeping bag and her small fingers curled around the stock. Wavy strands were tucked snug against her face by the beanie that she'd pulled down over her ears, wisps of blonde straying over her chin, their tips catching on the thick grey button on the collar of her sweater. Her cheeks were ruddy and wind-chapped, but it gave her skin a healthy flush of color that he liked. She'd been so pale when she'd found him, almost translucent under the dirt and dust that'd clung to her skin. And even then, she'd looked like something out of a dream.

Sometimes he still found himself wondering when he was going to wake up and find her gone.

A tap on the window at the back of the truck bed drew him from his broody thoughts. Aaron, his curls disheveled and his chin shadowed with several days worth of stubble, slid the glass open with a yawn.

"Anything?" he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry.

"Nah," Daryl replied, scratching behind his ear as he shifted into a crouch, his crossbow across his knees. "S'quiet. Ain't figured out if tha's a good or bad thing though."

"Bad," Beth said softly, her wide eyes turning towards him as she dipped her head in a slow nod. "This kinda quiet...always bad...itchy."

Daryl knew what she meant. A prickle on the back of your neck or a crawling sensation between your shoulder blades; an indication that something wasn't quite right. It was like your body was giving your head a tug, trying to pull your attention to the fact that nothing was what it looked like.

He glanced at the two of them. "Y'all wanna find somewhere else t'try and get supplies, then? Got more than three-quarters of a tank left, could put down some more miles between us and Picksville real easy."

Aaron grunted from the truck's cab, angling his tall frame so that he could see them better out of the tiny window. "Whether we stop or not, we're gonna end up going through Lycroft. Ain't no other roads going east unless we backtrack, and that's just as dicey. And we can't stay here, someone's bound to find us eventually."

"I know tha', but at least if we blow through the place, we got less chance a gettin' shot," Daryl snapped, irritated that the other man had felt the need to point out the obvious. He wasn't a complete idiot. At least not in that respect. He purposefully avoided looking at Beth. In other ways, he couldn't make that claim with any degree of certainty.

"Or more of one," Aaron pointed out. "Depending on whether or not they've got guns set up on a roof somewhere. They might not. Might be a ghost town. Might be as safe a place as any to restock and get our bearings."

"Tha's bettin' heavy on a lot of 'maybe'," Daryl snorted.

"And that attitude right there is why you always lose in poker, my friend," Aaron shot back with a crooked grin. "Always playing it safe."

"Kept my ass above ground, so I ain't seein' how tha's a problem," he replied waspishly.

Aaron looked at Beth. "Well, at least some of us got some decent sleep. We're gonna need it to put up with the grumpy one over there."

She smiled at him and he chuckled quietly, but he wasn't fooling anyone. There was a raspiness in his voice, strained and tired, and the dark circles under his eyes told a different story than his light tone would have led them to believe. He was feeling it too, maybe even more so than the two of them were. Eric had to be weighing on his mind, Daryl thought. It was never easy on him when he had to be apart from his boyfriend for any length of time. Their excursions were always dangerous, but neither of them had encountered anything like what they'd stumbled into this time, not while on a recruiting trip.

Daryl made a disgruntled sound in his throat before turning back to Beth. He ticked his chin towards her, his head canting slightly. "Whatcha think?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, her eyes sliding towards the trees again as she chewed on one corner of her bottom lip. She wasn't crazy about going into town, he could tell. Her jaw tightened in that stubborn way like she was steeling herself whenever Lycroft came up. She shifted uneasily, pulling the sleeping bag more snuggly against her chest as her arms folded on top of it.

Finally, she looked at him, her mouth set in a hard line. "Walk in, look, leave."

"I was thinkin' the same thing. Smarter in the long run t'take a look around," he admitted, although he wasn't keen on saying it. His instincts were tellin' him to scream through that town and never let up on the gas, but it was better to see what they were looking at rather than blindly hope like hell that they made it through no worse for wear.

He didn't much like the idea of turning back either, not with the risk of pursuit. The road they'd chosen hadn't been the first one they'd come upon, but without knowing exactly how many people were potentially looking for them, or how many vehicles they had at their disposal, it was probably best to keep moving forward.

"We'll push the truck up a little ways, deeper into the woods here and leave it for now. They find it, ain't gon' lose nuthin' but a set of wheels this time. Only a couple of miles between us and town anyways."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Aaron said, shutting the glass again and scooting towards the passenger side.

Daryl hopped out of the back of the truck, slinging his crossbow across his back. He turned around and held his hands out to Beth. She braced her palms on his shoulders and he scooped her up around the waist, easily lifting her and setting her on her feet. His heartbeat tripped when she smiled up at him. The wind brought the smell of hot sunshine wafting from her hair, making him swallow hard, the memory of honey and heat mingling in his mind. She watched him, her expression soft as one of her hands slid from his shoulder to touch his cheek, her fingertips gently scraping the scruff there. He half-imagined it was the same look she'd given him last night when it was too dark for him to see her clearly. But dear _Jesus_ , he'd been able to feel. She was nibbling on one corner of her mouth again. She inched closer, her head tilting back and her eyes darkening with something that made his gut tighten.

He had to make himself drop his hands and take a step back because it was taking everything he had not to bend his head and tug that pink lip of hers back from out between her teeth. He didn't have a whole lot of experience with women, but he'd have bet every bolt he had left that he could have coaxed the sweetest little sounds from her before he stopped.

It took a supreme amount of effort not to touch her again as he moved past her towards the driver's side of the truck. It took a helluva lot more not to unload a quarrel into Aaron's smug ass when he looked across the cab and saw him smirking knowingly. He settled for cuffing the self-satisfied bastard across his ear, a smirk of his own twisting his mouth as the other man cursed, rubbing the side of his head ruefully. Daryl put the truck in neutral and let it coast deeper into the woods. So far, their luck was holding. If it kept, they'd be in and out of Lycroft with enough supplies to see them back to the zone, maybe a little more to replace what they'd lost.

He wasn't about to hold his breath, though. Shit never worked out like it was supposed to.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot, new chapter! I'd meant to have this up last night, but I ended up going to bed just before I'd really finished it. So here's a bright and early morning present! As always, thank you guys so much for reading and all the encouragement! :)

Beth rummaged in her pack as she waited for Daryl and Aaron to finish concealing the truck. A couple cans of pork and beans, two bottles of water, flashlight, spare batteries, extra shirt, socks…

It wasn't much. Certainly not enough to last them a week, which was the amount of time Daryl had reckoned it would take them to work their way back to the zone on foot. Maybe less if they found gas or another car. It was probably better if they tried for a different vehicle anyway, one that wouldn't be missed. There was always the possibility that if the people from Picksville found the truck, they'd taper off their pursuit. Slim chance, but it was something.

With a small grunt, she shouldered the backpack, adjusting the straps over her sweater. Silently, she started walking towards where she'd seen them disappear around a bend, picking at spots of dried blood on her sleeve. The fog still hung low and thick, ghosting, wraith-like fingers extending like claws along the road, slithering between tree trunks and underbrush. She could hear the sound of water gushing through the woods on her left as she approached the road's curve, gurgling, and bubbling. Canting her head, she angled her path towards the noise. A small creek flowed down a slender gully, little more than a trickle. Brushing aside a scratchy-barked sapling, she crouched down and cupped her hands in the frigid water. Splashing it across her face, she scrubbed her now icy fingers over her skin with a hiss. She repeated the process a couple more times, cleaning away the dirt and dried blood. With the scent of copper washed away, Beth took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. That felt better.

A little refreshed, she stood and moved back to the road, rounding the bend and spotting the two men further up. Daryl was shaking his head, glaring daggers at Aaron as the curly-haired man laughed softly, clearly amused at something. She figured it was something he'd said; he seemed to find himself right funny. At times, she thought Daryl did too. He wasn't as successful as he thought he was at hiding how his mouth would quirk up on one side every now and then.

He didn't hide other things as well as he thought either, she mused with a private smile. She didn't think she could have told him, not even with as much progress as she'd made with her words, but she didn't miss some of the looks he gave her when he thought she wouldn't notice. Or the hunger in his hands when he held her tightly to him, running his rough fingers over her skin like he was starving for the contact. It made something warm and thrilling inside her swirl tight, because in those brief seconds he let himself show something that she suspected she might not otherwise get to see. He might not say it, might not even be willing to acknowledge it aside from a few stolen kisses in the dark, but he wanted her and he wanted her close. And knowing that did things to her. Hell, damn near anything to do with Daryl did things to her. Things she probably wasn't ready to acknowledge in the light of day. Her cheeks pinked a little as she thought back to the night before. She had no definition for what she'd felt. She didn't want to define it. Those feelings happened. They were there, she wouldn't deny them, and it seemed like acting on them was out of her hands. She wondered if she was supposed to be bothered by that. Was it wrong that she wasn't? It didn't feel wrong. Being around Daryl, in any capacity, felt good, felt right. Maybe too right. Was there even such a thing?

She didn't know. But she knew that when he let her close, it was heated and it was safe. It wasn't about need. It was about want. She wanted him, and although she still wasn't entirely sure what that meant, she _was_ certain that it wasn't something she was willing to let go of. Not when he stroked her scars like they weren't a reminder of what was wrong with her, like they were something precious, like _she_ was precious. And that did things to her too.

With a shiver, she pushed those memories to the back of her mind.

As she came closer, she kept her features closed and hooked her thumb over her shoulder. "Stream."

"Good, I need to refill my bottles. We can boil the water later," Aaron said, turning towards her.

Daryl glanced at Beth. "You good?" She nodded and he looked back to Aaron, jerking his head in the direction she'd pointed. "Get to it. We're gonna scout ahead a little."

She didn't wait for either of them, already turning on her heel and moving into the trees, ducking her head beneath a thick thorn vine. Lycroft was a bit further north and east, tucked against the side of one of the smaller mountains in the range if she remembered the map right. Silently, they slipped through the woods, Daryl trailing behind her as she led them across the shallow stream and up onto the steep bank on the other side. Up and over they went, stepping carefully, keeping their tread steady and quiet.

When the first house came into view, the morning fog had yet to evaporate, leaving the wooden fence that marched along the tree line streaked dark with moisture. At least the rain had seemed to move out completely. The ground was still damp, thick clumps of dirt and dead leaves clinging wetly to the hem of her jeans. The roof of the house looked slick, black, with the power line still attached to one corner. The top of a swing set was barely visible over the fence, cold droplets of dew and mist beading on the metal chains.

Daryl touched her shoulder as she stopped, slipping beside her, his crossbow pointed up as he rested the stock on his hip. Beth turned her head and looked at him, read his thoughts in his features. It was too quiet. Abandoned or not, there should have been birds, crickets, the creak of old hinges - even a soft gust would have stirred _something_.

"Hn," Daryl grunted, eyes sweeping over the weed-choked strip of grass that marked the boundary between the woods and the neighborhood that likely stretched beyond the house. He muttered, "Stay tight."

She thought he said it more for himself than for her. He knew she'd be right there. He didn't have to say it, but he did. Why did he feel the need?

Beth frowned at the fence, her eyes searching for what her mind wasn't focused on because the damn questions kept rearing up. Why? She never knew the answer, not really. Maybe she needed to ask them to Daryl, maybe he knew. Later, though, when there wasn't a need to run and she could take the time she needed to get the words together, if she could. Unconsciously, her hand slipped to the hilt of her knife, stroking the worn metal with her thumb. If she didn't chicken out. That made her frown deepen. What was so scary about asking questions?

She let herself imagine asking him some of the ones that'd occurred to her over the last couple of weeks and she felt her stomach swoop weirdly, emotions she couldn't identify swelling and squirming in her belly. It made her feel a little sick, but also a little warm. Then a sharp pain throbbed in the back of her head. Whatever she decided to do, it had to come _later_ , she decided firmly, putting it from her mind and feeling relief when the pain smoothed out. There was a quiet snap behind them and Beth glanced back to see Aaron slinking through the trees. She turned her eyes forward again, trying to see around the fence where it bent around what was left of the house's backyard. It made that patch of skin between her shoulder blades itch like crazy because not being able to see from here meant they needed to move closer and that idea was making her instincts howl like a pack of coyotes.

_Bad no bad don't BAD!_

She lifted a hand to rub over her arm, resisting the need to curl them and actually scratch away the goose flesh that was pebbling under her sleeves. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, and it made no sense because they hadn't even _seen_ anything yet. But then, she felt like they didn't need to. Beth angled her head to look up at Daryl, her features set tight.

"Don't go in."

Daryl glanced down at her, his eyebrows drawn together and his head canting towards her slightly. He watched her face and she didn't hide her unease. Finally, he grunted, his eyes shifting away from her back towards the fence. "Yeah, I got tha' feelin' too." He adjusted his grip on the crossbow. "But we're gonna need somethin' other than tha' truck. More I think about it, less smart it is t'be ridin' round in somethin' tha' damned conspicuous. Anybody tha's with 'em back there'll know us."

Aaron spoke quietly from the other side of him. "If they see _any_ vehicle, they'll know it's us."

"Fair 'nough, but we done hid tha' thing good and tight in them woods and I ain't hankerin' on wastin' time tryin' t'dig the damned thing out again," Daryl snapped impatiently.

The curly-haired man shrugged. "Then we'll just look for something with gas in the tank and keep moving. But we still should scope things out, yeah?"

With reluctance, Beth and Daryl nodded, exchanging a look. No, he didn't like it one bit, she could tell by the way he stood with his back ramrod straight and his shoulders tense. His gaze was telling too. There was a look in his eyes that spoke of misgivings. He was edgy, his fingers twitching where they curled close to the trigger. It wouldn't take much for him to deem something a threat, kill first and ask about it later. Frankly, though, she'd probably be quicker on the draw than he would. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped towards the fence. She wouldn't wait to see if it was a threat or not. At least whatever encountered Daryl today would stand a chance.

They wouldn't get one from her.


	34. Chapter 34

It was the quiet that bothered him the most. It'd bothered Merle too, or so he'd said one night, not too soon after he'd come back from a tour in the Gulf. Daryl could hear his brother's voice in the back of his head as the three of them crept towards the street, edging along the side of the house.

Most people believed that there's no silence in a war zone, baby brother, only a constant shit ton of gunfire and shellin'. They like to think tha's the reason why some vets come back with their brains leakin' out they ears and blubberin' like pussies. Makes them feel fuckin' smart when they tell someone else tha' as if they have some idea of understandin', some insight into what it's like that makes them better able to empathize. Truth is, Darlina, it was the damned quiet tha' was more likely to get you killed. More often than not, it gave ya time to retreat back into yer own head and start tryin' to reason out what the hell was goin' on. Instincts take a back seat then. Yer brain starts workin' shit out, takes up your attention. You start wonderin' what the hell you're even doin', and why. You wanna know when you're gonna see stateside when's the next time you'll get t'tuck yer kids in at night. You wonder what's the next thing you'll miss and how much longer you've got till you can kiss that pisshole part of the world goodbye. You get so caught up in it, you don't listen when your gut's screamin' at ya to put yer goddamned head down. And then a motherfuckin' bullet does it for ya.

Daryl hadn't put much stock in anything Merle had to say about his time overseas. Most of the time, he was stoned off his ass and couldn't tell which way was up when he started talking about it no ways. But that...that he'd believed.

Adrenaline was popping into his system in short, hard bursts, making him feel kinda buzzed, like everything's edges had sharpened. Every time he stopped to listen, his leg bounced, jittery energy coiling tight. Hell, he'd have been happy to hear a damned jackdaw, as aggravating as they were if it meant breaking the weird quiet. There was a nudge against the heel of his boot, making him glance down, then back to the woman that was standing behind him, her knife held along the line of her thigh. They were following the fence, slipping between it and the house next door. Aaron skulked not too far ahead of them, using the scope of his rifle to search the neighborhood for any sign of movement.

Daryl's eyes flickered to hers, watching as she gnawed on one corner of her lip. She was anxious. She jerked her head in the direction of the house across from them. Slowly, he nodded and she slinked across the narrow strip of grass to peek around the brick as he pressed his back into the cheap siding. She turned back to him and gestured the all clear. He looked at Aaron as he moved to stand behind the petite blonde. The curly-haired man dropped his shoulder as he lowered the gun, shaking his head. Nothing. So why weren't any of them breathing easier?

He leaned over Beth, her shoulder bumping into his chest as he swept his gaze over the street that was now visible. Was it just the fucking silence that was getting on his nerves?

No, he had that itch on his back that Beth had mentioned at the truck . Something was off, bad off. Quicker they got out, the better. His mouth tightened. Fuck a new car. There wasn't even one on the street, and the idea of going further into this goddamned ghost town made his stomach roil.

"Fuck this," he muttered. He tapped Beth with his elbow, leaning over her shoulder to whisper in her ear. "C'mon, we're hoofin' it. I ain't gettin' no further in here."

She dipped her head in agreement, keeping her eyes focused ahead of them as he leaned back and signaled to Aaron. Some of that uncomfortable prickliness faded, the urgency dulling as they backed their way towards the woods.

Daryl felt his heart plummet into his stomach when shards of brick suddenly shattered inches from straying blonde strands.

Instinct kicked in and he grabbed Beth around the waist, hauling her back and pulling her down into a crouch with him. Aaron hit the ground right beside them, crimson blooming on his shirt as he fell like a sack of potatoes. Dirt was being picked up in a rapid-fire spray, showering them with soil, grass and hot pieces of brick as bullets peppered the house.

"Shit, shit, _shit_."

It was a litany that he couldn't seem to stop, crushing Beth against him as he twisted around, using his body as a shield. He couldn't hear anything other than the snapping _shnick_ of shrapnel whizzing around them. Daryl barely lifted his head. Fuck, they were pinned unless they could-

Shoving Beth hard, he pushed her towards the narrow basement window that was barely visible through the weeds.

"Get yer ass in there!" he hollered at her, twisting around to drag Aaron behind them.

The lanky man groaned as Daryl roughly pulled him towards the side of the house. Beth yanked her pistol out of the waistband of her jeans and fired at the window, the shot cracking like a cannon and glass exploding in tandem with mortar as the bullets kept coming. Fuckers couldn't hit a tractor tire if it was parked in front of 'em, Daryl thought with a snarl as he impatiently rammed his unconscious friend through the opening as Beth lifted the frame, heedless of the sharp shards. If they lived, they damn well could pick them out.

He looked back as he ushered Beth inside, only catching a quick glimpse of a still empty street as Beth grabbed him by the belt loops and jerked him towards the window. With a grunt, he fell through, tumbling down a set of cardboard boxes and cracking his skull against a concrete floor.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, shaking his head as a slender pair of denim-clad legs shot past his vision. There was a loud squealing sound, followed by a soft groan. Then nothing.

Holding the heel of his palm against his forehead and thanking JC for a fucking hard skull, Daryl groped for his crossbow, his fingers closing around it before he staggered to his feet. He blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes to the gloom. His vision swam a little, spots dancing before they faded altogether. The basement smelled of rot and dust, coated in years' worth of neglect and abandonment. As he lowered his hand, he made out a couple of familiar shapes near the floor and he moved towards them, crouching next to the taller one as it bent over the second.

"He aright?" he asked, resting his elbows on his thighs.

"Shoulder wound," Beth answered tersely. "Looks clean. Went through."

Daryl let out a breath of relief. If the bullet went through, and they kept the wound tended, he'd be alright. He relaxed a fraction. Pushing up, he pulled the small flashlight he kept in his pocket and shone it at the window. The boxes that had been stacked beneath it were smashed down where they'd landed on them, and he could see the scuff marks where Beth must have dragged the shelving unit that was now in front of the broken frame. It wouldn't keep people out, but it'd slow them down a little.

From the sounds behind him, he thought she was digging around in her pack. When he turned around, he knew he was right as she clicked on her own flashlight and clenched it between her teeth, aiming its light into the rucksack. She pulled out the first aid kit. Handing him her light, she worked quickly to unbutton Aaron's shirt, pushing the fabric completely off his shoulder and biting off large strips of binding tape. Daryl flicked off his and stuck it back in his pocket, holding the second steady as she worked. Within a couple of minutes, she'd cleaned and wrapped it with quick, efficient movements. She ticked her chin towards the staircase that was barely visible in the dimness.

"Check it?"

He gave her back the light with a short nod, the muscle in his jaw working as he climbed the steps and gave the door a firm rattle.

"Locked," he called down to her. "Good and bad thing." He moved back to stand over her as she finished pulling Aaron's shirt back over him. "We can't stay here."

"I know," she replied calmly, her even tone soothing some of his frayed nerves and reminding him that being pissed didn't exactly improve their odds.

Forcing himself to take another breath, he stood next to her and ran a hand up her arm. "You shot anywhere?"

She shook her head quickly and he caught a glimmer of cornflower blue in the flashlight's beam as she looked up at him. "You?"

"Nah, I-"

She didn't let him finish, dropping the flashlight and launching herself at him, her mouth pressing against his hard and insistent. Daryl acted on instinct, his crossbow clattering to the floor as his arms wrapped around her and held her tightly to him. Her hands were clutching at his shoulders, then sliding into his hair as the taste of heat and honey exploded on his tongue. His head was filled with that taste, and for a few breathless seconds, that was all that existed. His heart was slamming triple time against his ribs and he could feel hers echoing its beat, a thrumming flutter that jolted low in his belly.

God, she tasted good, felt good. Warm and whole and right there against him, and the sensation damn near broke him. Because she might not have been. She might have-

With a growl, Daryl slipped his hands down over her bottom to her thighs and hoisted her up, keeping his mouth against hers. Faster than she could react, he spun them around so that she was pressed between him and the wall, her legs automatically curling around his waist as he rocked against her, his jeans tight with a need that threatened to overwhelm him. Closer, his mind whispered, one hand cupping the sweet curve of her ass and the other burying itself in her long blonde hair, his fingers gripping the soft strands almost punishingly. He needed her closer, needed to know that the scent of sunshine and the lean softness of her body was real. She didn't protest, but she did sink her teeth into his lip, a quick retaliating bite that made him throb below his belt. He broke from her to gulp down air, filling his lungs with that fucking amazing smell of summer before pressing his mouth to her neck, nipping the skin he found there and feeling a jerk in his gut when she made a quiet little mewl.

 _Fuck_ , did she even know what that sound did to him? His hips snapped into the cradle of hers of their own accord, wanting more than anything to hear her make that sweet noise again as her hands worked some kind of magic and snaked their way under his shirt. Her nails raked down the muscles of his stomach, danced just above the waistline of his jeans, and he bucked against her again.

Aaron's groan of pain was like an ice-cold knife sliding into his belly. It made him snatch his head back from her, panting hard as he tried to get his bearings. Desire was drowned in a wash of guilt and Daryl let his head fall against her shoulder with a low groan of his own. Shit, this was _not_ the right time or place for this. Not when those bastards could be pouring down that stairwell at any second.

Beth's touch, a gentle slide of her hands down the sides of his face, pulled him out of his head. He couldn't see her expression, but he could feel the relaxed set of her features as she touched her cheek against his.

"We gotta get outta here," he said gruffly, but he made no move to separate himself from her.

"Yes," she agreed quietly, her voice husky. "Get Aaron home."

He felt her head tip against his, felt the deep breath she took shudder through her slight frame as she gave him a firm push on his shoulders. He shifted back from her and her legs fell from his waist. Reaching up on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his one more time, but there was no heat in this kiss. It felt affectionate, quiet, a reassurance and another reminder that she was still there, still gave a damn. It loosened a knot in his chest that he hadn't even been fully aware of.

As Beth moved to kneel beside Aaron on the floor, Daryl bent and retrieved his crossbow.

_I guess you'll just have to keep reminding me._

_No. You can't rely on anybody for anythin', right? I won't always be here._

Yes, you will, he thought. Beth damn sure would always be there. And those sons of bitches outside weren't going to make a fucking bit of difference in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so accomplished! Another chapter up for you lovely readers, I hope you all enjoyed! :D


	35. Chapter 35

She felt like her heart was trying to escape from out of her mouth. It's beat fluttered thickly in her throat as she re-checked Aaron's shoulder, making sure the bandage was tight but not so tight that it cut into his skin. How long had they been down here? Minutes? An hour? Couple hours? It felt that way. It felt like both ways. Daryl was on the stairs to the far left of the basement, the boards creaking under his shifting weight as he jimmied the lock with a thin piece of metal he'd scavenged from somewhere in the room. They'd agreed that whether someone was waiting for them on the other side of that door or not they had to get out. It was a risk worth taking.

She kept her fingers as light and gentle as she could, relieved when Aaron didn't stir at her touch. It was a mixed blessing though. As long as he was unconscious, he wasn't feeling it, but it also meant that they couldn't move him. Too dangerous to try and wake him up. His body had knocked him out. Best to let it run whatever course it had planned, deal with the trauma and start healing. She glanced up towards the darkened stairwell, gnawing on the corner of her bottom lip. They couldn't stay here. Whoever had shot at them had to know that they'd holed up either here or in the other house. If they'd been able to see them clear enough to start firing, then she had to assume that where they'd gone had to have been clear as well.

It was just common sense. There was a distinct possibility that they'd been deliberately trapped down here, that these people would just wait them out. It was likely that someone was stationed to watch the window they'd used. And it was better to believe that there were people waiting for them to come up out of the basement. They wouldn't come in, of that she was dead certain. Trap the fox in its den, let the hounds keep guard and eventually it'd either try to run or they'd just shoot inside. No need to take the risk and enter the den yourself. It was how she'd have done it. Efficient, cautious.

Give a man enough rope and eventually, he'd hang himself.

Beth tucked her hair behind an ear as she leaned over Aaron. The bleeding had already stopped, which was good. Even better, she and Daryl had come through unscathed, for the most part. He had a knot on his forehead, but he functioned fine. No trouble seeing, coordination was alright. She had a couple of scrapes on her palms. Lucky. Or these people were bad shots.

Or they hadn't meant to kill.

Her stomach clenched. That was the most likely possibility. Herd them, make a nick or two. If they already had the car, the bike, and the supplies they'd brought with them, and they hadn't outright killed any of them yet, then they wanted the three of them alive for something. Made sense. Not the kind of sense she entirely liked, not when it was aimed at her and hers, but she understood it.

Daryl came back down the steps and crouched next to her, his hand big and warm on her shoulder.

"No luck on the door. Still aright?" He spoke in a low tone, neither of them sure who might be listening.

She nodded, able to see parts of his face in the slim sunbeams that radiated through the window and around the shelves in front of it. "Stable."

"He gonna wake up anytime soon?"

She lifted her shoulders, feeling his fingers tighten slightly. "Dunno. Hope so."

He grunted, sliding his hand over to the back of her neck and running his thumb along the smooth skin beneath her ear in a soothing motion before moving upwards to bunch her hair in a loose fist. The tension she hadn't realized had gathered was suddenly released and she sucked in a deep breath. She leaned her head towards his touch before dipping it in another short nod and he let go, standing up. Their eyes met briefly as she looked up at him. His features were set, hardened, maybe even a little urgent and frustrated. She got that. The need to move had to be tempered with a patience that neither of them really possessed, and it was wearing on him as the seconds ticked by. It made her almost wish that someone would come through that door, even though she knew that wouldn't happen, not yet anyway.

She wondered if they should leave him? Daryl wouldn't like that. She wasn't sure that she liked it, but what were their options? She glanced at the tall man who was standing in front of the door again, his crossbow strapped across his back. He would say that it wasn't an option. Somehow, she knew that. Beth shifted uneasily. Did that make her wrong? Her head tilted as her eyes fell back to the curly-haired man on the floor. Did she feel like it was wrong?

She considered that question more than the others, turning it over and over in her head. Because she wasn't entirely sure what made it wrong.

It was practical.

It made sense.

But was it right?

_There are still good people, Daryl._

Beth blinked, pain pulsing from the back of her skull and making her wince. She reached up and massaged her fingers over the puckered skin beneath her hair. Would a good person leave him? Daryl wouldn't. He was good. So...no. Beth started gnawing on her lip again. Quietly, she reached out and ran her hand through Aaron's unruly curls. His breathing was even, but shallow. An image of his crooked grin flashed in her mind, like the one he'd given her that morning.

_Sunshine._

Her hand dropped. She didn't want to leave him, not really. Did that make her good? Maybe. She wasn't sure. She didn't feel like it was an adequate enough question to measure herself with. She wasn't sure that there was one. Did it make her wrong to consider it? She looked back up the stairs again. Did her relief that Daryl hadn't been the one shot make her wrong? She didn't think she'd have ever wished for Aaron to take a bullet, but she couldn't deny that knowing Daryl hadn't been the one hurt, that he was alive and whole and solid-

Was that wrong?

She didn't know the answer to those questions either.

All she did know to do was wait for something to happen. And that grated. Without immediately realizing it, she started tapping on the sheath of her knife. It was a two-beat rhythm, quick, but soft. Abruptly, she pushed herself up and approached the stairs. Taking them two at a time, she quietly climbed up. She tugged on Daryl's jacket and he bent sideways towards her, his eyes still trained on the door as he tried to work it open.

She brushed aside lank strands of hair to murmur in his ear, "Lemme try."

"I got it," he muttered, angling the metal bar left, then down, trying to work it under the latch.

Beth growled at him and put her hand on the bar, bumping her hip against his. She couldn't sit down there anymore. She couldn't look at Aaron anymore. Not when she was thinking things that she couldn't determine were bad or good. That, at least, she felt wasn't right, felt certain that it wasn't right.

Daryl looked at her, and she could just make out the faint glitter of his eyes in the dimness. Maybe he got it, maybe he didn't, she couldn't tell, but he let her have the bar.

"Got the window," he said, moving past her and she took his place on the landing.

The metal was almost too thick to use, catching between the door and the jamb with a scrapping sound. Beth eased it down, working it back and forth as quietly as she could. When it felt as though it couldn't be pushed any further, she stopped and pressed her ear to the door. She let her eyes fall closed, listening hard. Past her own breathing, there was no other noise. Not comforting. Meant anything and nothing.

Carefully, she angled the bar up, blindly groping for the jarring feeling of metal rubbing against metal. It was slow in coming, minutes crawling by as she navigated by sensation. She'd been concentrating so hard that when she finally did feel it, it nearly made her jump. Easing her hand back, she tilted the end of the bar, her lips twitching when she heard the soft click of the latch sliding back. Gripping the bar tight, she held the doorknob, twisting it. She pulled the door back just shy of an inch, bracing the toe of her boot against the bottom of it as she bent sideways to quietly set down the bar.

Her hand slid down to the hilt of her knife, slipping it from her belt and tucking it tight against her thigh. She glanced back down to the basement, saw Daryl standing at the shelves, peering through the broken frame just behind it. For half a minute, she debated whether or not to call him over. Neither of them knew what was waiting behind that door. Their chances were better if they went out together, but what if-

Her eyes darted down to Aaron as another twinge of pain skittered through her head. She pressed her lips together. 'If' didn't matter. 'If' wasn't cautious, it got people killed. They'd moved into town to start with because of an 'if' and look what that got them.

So she whistled, two soft notes that pulled Daryl's attention from the window. She tipped her head towards the door and he nodded, crossing the room and strapping his crossbow over his chest. Gathering Aaron up in a fireman's carry, he grunted as the other man's weight settled across his shoulders. Beth waited at the top of the stairs, her hand on the doorknob, keeping it still and the latch from locking again. Slowly, he climbed the steps, swaying forward to retain his balance. If she'd had a free hand, Beth would have reached out to steady him. Instead, she just tightened her grip on her weapon, wincing every time Aaron was jostled and hoping that it didn't tear open his shoulder any further.

Deliberately, she ran her thumb along the knife's edge, feeling its sharp bite dig into the pad. Warm wetness trailed down her skin and she made a silent promise. She didn't know to whom, but that wasn't important. What _was_ important, was that she was going to sink that blade into every single, gun-totting son of a bitch. She was going to carve a perfect circle that matched the one in her friend's body into every hide, whether it drew breath or not.

Maybe it wasn't right. Maybe it was the worst thing she could do. Maybe it wasn't what a good person would do. Maybe it wasn't what Daryl or Aaron, men who she considered to be good people, would do, but it was what _she_ was going to do.

And she knew that she wasn't going to have a single question about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all the support and wonderful encouragement! I love waking up after posting a chapter and seeing all the comments/kudos filling my inbox. Please keep them coming! :)


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this update's late in coming. Life, as I'm sure you all know, loves to toss things out to trip you up. I should be back on track as far as regular updates, though. I hope y'all enjoy and as always, thank you so much for your support and love for 'Feral'! :)

"Jesus, Aaron, what the fuck ya been eatin'?" Daryl muttered under his breath, hoisting the unconscious man higher up on his shoulders.

As much as Daryl would have liked to have heard his friend make a crack at him, it was probably a good thing he couldn't make the retort. Well, if he did, at least it wouldn't be Daryl's fault if they drew unwanted attention.

His mouth tightened into a thin line as Beth cautiously slipped through the door leading out of the basement. Fuck, but he didn't like her going first with just her little pigsticker. If he was going to be completely honest, he didn't like her going first _at all,_ but she just wasn't big enough to haul a grown man on those scrawny shoulders of hers. If they made it out alive, the first thing he was going to do was shove another can of peaches into her hands and make her eat the whole damn thing.

He shook his head roughly as he used his elbow to hold the door open so he could angle himself through. Beth was in the small hallway immediately outside it, long hair rippling against her back as she peered around the corner towards the front of the house. It was dead quiet, not even a creak.  He glanced down the hall leading to the back before half-turning towards Beth.

"C'mon," he said gruffly, juggling his burden a bit and shifting so Beth could get past him.

She darted in front of him and he appreciated that she was moving quick and quiet. He barely heard her boots scuff against the floor as she swept down the small corridor towards the back door. She held her hand back to him, signaling that he wait as she crouched down to peek beneath the curtain that covered the window. He watched her turn her head back and forth, wide blue eyes scanning the fenced backyard. Then she nodded and gestured to him, cautiously opening the door. The fence was high, but Daryl tried to keep as low as he could anyway, stepping off the back porch and following the wall of the house until he reached the corner.

Beth was right behind him, her hand gripping the sleeve of his jacket briefly as she stopped a little in front him, cocking her head towards the fence. He breathed through his mouth, straining to hear anything, but that fucking silence had descended on the neighborhood again, coating the air with a stillness that threatened to give him gooseflesh. He nudged her heel with the toe of his boot, his gut starting to churn. She didn't even turn around, just started moving towards the gate. Silently, she lifted the latch and cracked it open, looking down the line of the fence before swinging around to look the opposite way, her knife gripped tight in her hand.

"C'mon," she echoed him in a whisper, pushing the gate wide and moving through it in a blur of blonde and grey.

Daryl followed her but didn't stop when she did, letting her drop back to keep an eye on the rear as they made a beeline for the woods. He trotted as fast as he dared, mindful to keep the jostling to a minimum. Every groan made him grimace.

"Sorry, man," he grumbled, bouncing him up when he started to slide down his back. "Ain't got much choice." He stepped wide over a fallen log. "Jus' relax and enjoy the view back there. Don' think I ain't heard you and yer man talkin' 'bout my ass."

He hoped like hell Aaron could hear him. Made him feel a little better to think that he could. Daryl angled their path in roughly the same direction they'd come. Their best chance was getting back to that truck. Still didn't want to dig the son of a bitch out of all the crap they tossed over it, but it sure as fuck beat walking. And there weren't no way in hell he could carry Aaron all the way back to the zone. He'd damn well try, but he wasn't fool enough to think that they were gonna get very far.

Shit, was the undergrowth this damned thick when they came through here this morning?

Daryl swore again, much more colorfully under his breath. Was it just this morning? It felt like a fucking week. Piddlin' round in that basement. Cage. It'd felt more like a cage. Felt like one even when he was working on the door that all he was really doing was waiting; waiting for someone to push a muzzle through an opening and pepper the whole room with hot lead, or waiting for a face to appear in the door, or the window, spot them and give a shout. He reckoned Beth felt the same way, much as she'd moved around down there, looking for something to keep her hands busy, looking at the window, the door. Even in the dark, he'd seen her hair shimmering like stray beams of sunshine as she'd twisted to watch every exposure point, every corner. Like a cat with a permanent kitten tick.

"Heh, seems like I've made tha' comparison before," he murmured to the curly-haired man as he glanced back at Beth. Her eyes were narrowed and her jaw was set in that stubborn line. She looked small and tough at the same time, her hand unimaginably dainty where her fingers curled around that big knife of hers. "I reckon it still applies," he added softly.

There was a hand on his arm as they got close to the logging road, stopping him. Beth met his eyes as she came up beside him and applied a firm pressure. Rolling his shoulders, he set Aaron down as easily as he could and stayed crouched. When he looked up again, Beth held her hand up, fingers spread before she pointed to the line of trees ahead of them. He followed her line of sight, squinting as he caught a flash of color that was much too bright for anything that lived in the woods. He closed his hand over her shoulder, the blonde strands that caught under the rough pads of his fingertips smooth and cool. He put his mouth close to her ear.

"Stay here with Aaron," he muttered, his fingers flexing when he felt her tense. "Don't fight me on this, Beth," he said more forcefully when she turned to glare balefully at him.

To her credit, she didn't. She just ignored him, shoving his hand off and scuttling forward before he could grab her again.

"Hard-headed little-" he cut himself off and looked down at Aaron for a split second before he scrambled after her, shifting his crossbow to his back as he went.

Daryl rammed himself against a tree, blowing hair out of his eyes. He could hear a soft murmur of conversation not far from him, and the low rumble of an engine. With a quiet grunt, he steadied the bow on the ground and pulled back the string. He loaded a bolt without looking, peering around the trunk of the tree. A beat-up red pickup was parked on the road, a couple hundred yards down from where they'd spent the night before. Beside it, two men and a woman were standing, their rifles pointed at the ground as they talked among themselves. He recognized them as the three they'd damn near flattened yesterday. They wore matching khaki cargo pants and black wife beaters, giving them a kind of militaristic or uniform kind of look. It was different than the casual outfits the other people they'd seen before. He reckoned they were probably the back guard, supposed to keep watch in case the three of them made it back this far.

He caught sight of more movement at the end of the truck. Then he started swearing again because what he saw was blonde.

Daryl lifted the crossbow, lining up the shot while his eyes flickered between the petite woman creeping along the tail of the truck and his targets. But he couldn't squeeze the trigger. She was goddamned lucky that they were all facing away from her because otherwise, he didn't think she could have done it. Vaulting over the back, Beth crept along the bed of the truck with quick, crab-like movements, her knife between her teeth as she got to the back of the cab. Her body blocked the shot and Daryl promised her silently that the two of them were going to have a few words of prayer about this tendency of hers for running headfirst into shit.

He watched the muscles in her back bunch under the material of her sweater, her jeans hugging the backs of her thighs tight as she curled her hands over the side of the truck. Then his eyes about popped out of his head as she jumped right over it and onto the back of the man closest to the truck. She snatched her knife out from between her teeth as her arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, something that he barely comprehended that she could pull off with them scrawny arms of hers. And then she slid that knife right across the poor bastard's throat.

Without missing a beat, she shoved him from the back as the other two started to turn, clearly trying to pull up their guns as they processed what the hell was happening. But they weren't quick enough. As the dead weight of the first man was jammed against the second, Beth slammed the knife into the woman's chest. She gasped and Beth yanked it back out. The woman sank out of sight, clutching at her shirt in shock. The blonde didn't pay her any further attention, as the second man was attempting to pull his buddy's body away from him, but it looked like their guns had gotten tangled together. Beth didn't give him a chance, her lips curling back in a snarl as she snatched the other woman's gun from her, a small caliber rifle with something on the end of the barrel that might have been a silencer. He figured that it was when Beth put it dead between the second's eyes and fired. He dropped and Daryl watched her aim twice more, presumably putting a bullet in each of the other two's skulls.

She turned her head to where he was standing behind the tree. Their eyes met, her features set in a fierce expression that made his mouth dry. And that was when he realized he was slack-jawed. His teeth clicked together and he scowled, unloading his bow. He shouldered it again like he had before and went to retrieve Aaron. It took some effort to get the tall man back up again, but he managed. Aaron moaned softly, a quiet sound of pain.

"Hush up, now," Daryl grumbled at him as he staggered onto the road, fighting to keep his balance. "You're sleepin' through the hard parts."

Beth was crouched on the other side of the truck, pawing through pockets until she fished out a set of keys. She wrenched open the door and slid across the bench seat, sticking them in the ignition. She turned them a little, shading her hand over the dash.

"Full tank," she said as she popped open the driver side, hurrying to the back as Daryl got closer.

She lifted the handle and lowered the tailgate with a hollow bang before climbing back up into the bed. As carefully as he could, Daryl lowered Aaron down and Beth grabbed the shoulders of his jacket to drag him all the way in. Daryl hoisted the gate back up, smacking it once with his palm to make sure it was secured. Then he pointed at Beth.

"You and me are gonna have a long, _long_ talk when we stop," he growled at her.

She didn't even look up, just tossed him the keys and he bit back the urge to snarl at her. The woman was going to send him to an early grave. But if she was, he thought as he climbed in and slammed the door, he was sure as hell going to do his best to make her hair turn gray before she did. He'd be damned if he was going to make it eafor on her to send him to the pearly gates. Daryl didn't let himself dwell too much on the fact that he liked the idea of driving her as fucking crazy as she did him. It just wasn't healthy for his sanity to give that line of thought a whole lot of room in his head.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the new chapter is up! As always, thank y'all so much for all the love and wonderful kudos and comments! Please keep them coming and I hope you guys enjoy! :)

The wind slid cold fingers through her hair, tangling the ends and snatching them across her face. She kept one hand up to pull them back and one cradling the back of Aaron's head on her lap so that he wouldn't bump against the truck's bare metal bed. The truck barreled around a curve, tossing Beth into the side, making her hiss in a breath between her teeth as her fingers tightened in Aaron's curls. That was going to bruise. She scooted them further up so that she could wedge her back between the cab and the side. It wasn't very comfortable, but she wasn't going to get slung everywhere.

Aaron made a sound that she felt more than heard, and she instinctively ran her fingers over his temple, trying to keep his shoulder from jostling into her stomach and causing him more pain. They slammed into a pothole and Beth grimaced as her head connected hard with the back window. Her eyes watering, she kept her hold on Aaron and glared into the cab. If Daryl could see it in the rearview mirror, she couldn't tell, but she thought that he probably knew anyway. She glanced towards the windshield, trying to figure out where they were. She'd slept through most of the ride up, so she couldn't be sure, but she figured they were quickly closing in on the turn to the main highway.

Unfortunately, they weren't going to be the only ones. She swallowed hard as they rounded a bend and she could see several trucks parked right at the stop sign.

"Damn," she murmured, her gaze flickering to the man behind the wheel.

Daryl glanced back at her, snarling, and it made her want to bare her teeth back at him in agreement. She looked to the vehicles, saw the people milling around with guns that were quickly being pointed in their direction as he accelerated. As much as she wanted to watch, she knew it was smarter to duck. So she scrunched herself down, hugging her body around Aaron as best she could. Despite herself, that grin spread over her lips. And then she laughed, low and throaty as the shouting reached her ears. She felt the jerk as Daryl shifted into high gear and slammed his foot on the gas.

Shots rang out, and there was a sharp set of pings that she assumed were bullets fracturing the windshield. She bent her head over Aaron's as glass exploded over them, using her arms as a shield. The smell of burnt rubber invaded her nose as the tires squealed and they were both tossed against the side of the truck when it made a hard left, bouncing up as something snatched under the wheels. Beth grunted, then winced as Aaron's torso smashed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her. Gunfire rattled overhead and she scrambled to hold herself as flat as she could on the truck bed, Aaron still unconscious next to her. She tucked her body tightly around his as the truck careened sharply to the left, the back of the truck sinking slightly as it jerked again before shooting forward.

Beth snapped up, blonde hair flying as she looked behind them with wide eyes, slightly disoriented. People were swarming over the trucks as theirs hurtled up the main road. Another short bark of laughter burst out of her mouth as she dropped back down in the truck bed, gunfire still echoing in rattling pops. But they were already out of range and the distance was only increasing. She reached out and gripped the truck's side as Daryl made a sudden right on a side road.

"Geh," she groaned as the truck bounced hard over another pothole, smacking her chin into the hard bed. Her teeth pierced her bottom lip and the metallic tang of blood burned her tongue.

Precariously, she hauled herself up to her hands and knees, spitting. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she crawled back towards Aaron and checked his bandage. She exhaled heavily in relief to see that it remained tight and clean. The wound hadn't reopened after all that. Settling his head back in her lap, Beth curled her legs beneath her and looked inside the cab, her eyes flowing over the cracked windshield. She could hear the wind whistling through the holes even from back here. Daryl gripped the wheel tightly in both hands. He didn't look hurt. She turned her head again to watch behind them. If those people had any sense, they'd be splitting up to check every road leading away from the area. It was what they'd obviously already been doing if they'd gone to Lycroft.

Damn, they'd been lucky to get out of there at all.

Her lips pressed together as she looked down the narrow two-lane highway, her jaw clenching. She'd made sure that some of them had paid for that. Bullet for bullet, she'd made them pay. Beth made her hand smooth over Aaron's curls, made the muscles in her arm uncoil, become almost languid in their movement. It wasn't enough, but it was a start. Daryl'd taken his payment in his own way. They'd been moving too fast and she hadn't been in a position to see, but she'd have bet that at least one of the poor fools that had been standing at that stop sign wasn't about to get up anytime soon.

They wound back and forth along the road, taking several turns that pushed them progressively north and west. At a guess, Beth believed that Daryl was working his way to a double back point, leading their pursuers in a direction opposite of the safe zone. It was a good plan. It'd take longer to get back, but better that than the alternative of leading these people right back to where they lived. The highway was starting to roll up and down in steep hills, curling around the girth of one of the mountains. She braced her boot against the hub over the passenger side tire, keeping the two of them from sliding back towards the tailgate. She kept her eyes trained on the road as it fell away behind them, but she neither saw nor heard any sign of the large green trucks.

Eventually, they pulled further up the mountain, and into a dense, heavily wooded area where the road became narrow and poorly paved. Thin dirt trails snaked up every couple of miles, leading off in different directions. They passed several lanes, the mailboxes overgrown with climbing vines and thick-stemmed weeds. Some of the houses were visible through the trees as they passed, many of them simply looking like blurs, large and dark even in the late morning sunlight. The truck climbed upwards, finally starting to slow a little as it hauled itself higher.

A groan was barely audible over the sound of the wind. Beth angled her head to look towards the front of the truck, spotting the walker that was shambling along the shoulder, its feet stumbling in the wet grass. She was tempted to pick up the gun that she'd taken from the woman on the logging road, but ultimately let it lie next to her hip. Somebody found the body, they'd know that the three had been through the area. No reason to make the trail clear. It weakly grabbed for the truck as they passed it, its pace hurrying as it staggered into the road after them, but they were already gone.

Abruptly, they pulled left and stopped on a wide stretch of pavement and Beth winced in sympathy for Aaron as his shoulder rammed into her diaphragm. Easing him away from her, she climbed over him and hopped out as the driver side door swung open. She glanced around, her fingers straying to the knife on her belt as she listened for the sound of engines, or footsteps in the woods that couldn't be attributed to anything that could naturally be found in the woods. Aside from the crickets, though, it was relatively quiet.

Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better.

Daryl came around the back of the truck as she leaned against the tire, her calf touching the hot rubber. He ticked his chin towards Aaron. "He aright?"

She nodded, feeling an edgy prickle between her shoulder blades at the tightness she could hear in his voice. When he looked up at her, there was a hardness in his features that made her stiffen. She barely saw him move. Reflexively, she pushed off from the truck, her hands coming up, but he stopped her with the wall of his chest, his palms slapping on either side of her, bracing his weight against the side of the truck.

"Fine," he said in a clipped tone. He leaned closer so that his face was almost right in hers. "Now you wanna tell me what the fuck tha' lil stunt ya pulled back there was?"

Beth snarled at him, her skin crawling at being trapped between him and the vehicle, at being trapped at all. She resisted the urge to lunge at his arms, a fine tremble starting in her muscles as she fought to keep still. Her fist rammed back into the truck with a hollow sounding thud.

"Needed the truck," she growled, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. "Didn't need them."

His hand came up to grip her chin. "I told you to stay put," he snapped harshly, his fingers pressing into her skin, but not enough to hurt.

She jerked away from him and he let her go. "Heard you," she snapped at him, watching his eyes flash darkly. She drew herself up to her full height, which admittedly didn't seem like much as he towered over her. "Not a child."

Daryl hissed in a sharp breath at that, recoiling from her slightly. She searched his face as he ran a hand through his hair. He stood a step back from her.

"No. No, yer not," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck before his face hardened again. "But ya shoulda listened t'me. Wha' if one of 'em had got lucky, huh?" He stuck a finger out towards Aaron. "Somebody did and he's layin' there cause of it."

Heat rushed to her face as she watched him, a mixture of shame and needled pride mingling in her head. She pushed up and jammed her own finger against his chest.

"Don't need you tellin' me wha' t'do," she said in a low voice. "Don't need you lookin' out fer me. Been takin' care of m'self."

A pained look crossed his face and Beth felt her anger dull a little to see it. But then his expression was a tight mask. She lowered her hand, the air heavy and charged between them as they stared one another down, his hands once again braced on either side of her shoulders, pushing her back against the truck. She snarled at him again, a wordless warning as her hands curled into loose fists at her side. His lip curled and he growled back at her, his eyes bleeding to dark pools. The sound reverberated in his chest, a sensation she could feel as he got closer, invading her space.

Both of her hands came up, palms flat against his shoulders as she pushed him back with a growl of her own, baring her teeth. He didn't budge and she felt some of what made her Beth slide away, replaced with something instinctive, purely reactionary. She recognized it in him too, how the man she knew slipped from his gaze, replaced with something more focused, almost wolfish. Moving slowly, like he'd cornered a skittish animal, one of his hands lifted. She fought not to jump at the touch of it on her neck, the slide of calloused fingers on her skin as they moved to her hair. She tried to twitch away but they suddenly fisted in her long blonde locks, holding her fast.

It wasn't painful, just firm. Something fluttered in her belly as she glared up at him.

"No." The word pushed past her lips, hard and low, despite the fact that he wasn't asking.

His fingers tightened a fraction. He tugged her forward and she resisted. His other hand shot down to her waist, gripping her by the hip and roughly pulling her against him. His hold forced her head back, her spine bending a little as their eyes locked. He was so close, she could pick out the flecks of deeper blue in the thin ring left around his pupils. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at her, his mouth parted and his breath coming in deep, hard gusts like he'd been running. She was breathing just as harshly, but whether that was from stubborn effort or something else, she didn't know.

She felt hot as she tried to keep herself stiff against him, her hands coming both up and down to dig into the sleeves of his jacket. Her nails were too short and blunt to bite through the thick material, but her grip was strong. They held like that, watching each other, both of them seeking something in the other, and neither of them entirely aware of what they were looking for. Slowly, slowly, Beth relaxed, inch by inch as Daryl's hold in her hair loosened a little, his fingers sliding through the waves instead of gripping them. Her heartbeat was hard in her chest, pulsing in her throat like a butterfly trapped just beneath her skin.

Daryl's head bent towards her, his eyes flickering between hers and the rest of her face as if he couldn't decide what warranted his full attention. His nose brushed against hers as she stayed still, her hands sliding up his arms as he moved closer. She felt his breath ghost across her mouth as she watched him. His eyes softened as the tension in her body was released and his other hand lifted from her hip, his knuckles tracing the curve of her side to graze along her jaw, drawing along its stubborn set. Suddenly his eyes closed and his head dropped to her shoulder, his features turned beneath her ear.

"Beth."

Her name was a brand, spoken against her skin and left there to sink into it. It sounded like a question, exhausted and beseeching.

_Please._

_I'm not gonna leave you!_

Her own eyes fell shut and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her hands moved the rest of the way up to wrap around his shoulders, her fingers stroking along the nape of his neck. She pressed herself up against him, standing up on her tiptoes so she could hold him where he was.

"Aright," she said quietly, tucking her nose in the same spot his rested. "Aright, Daryl."

"You gonna listen?" he asked her, his voice muffled and stirring wisps of her hair.

She nodded and she felt him snort before he pulled his head up as she loosened her hold on him.

"Reckon I'll take yer word for it." He stepped back from her and ticked his chin towards the truck. "C'mon, let's take another look at him and we'll get goin' again."


	38. Chapter 38

Daryl pushed that little truck hard. Beth stayed in the back with Aaron, keeping him still as they worked their way across the range. He'd finally turned eastward about sundown, after pushing further north and west for most of the day. Clamping a flashlight between his teeth, he checked the old map Beth kept stored in her backpack. They were going to have to either find another vehicle or hunt up some gas eventually, but for the moment, they were alright. Little over half a tank left, and they still had to keep a good bit north, almost in Maryland. He wasn't taking any chances that they could stray into that group's territory again. They had no idea how far their holdings stretched, and while he'd bet that the three of them were well outside the edge of their range, they had no idea how far these people were willing to pursue them. Frankly, they didn't know jack shit. Nearly a week of running around these bastards and they knew just about as much as when they'd first walked down into that town.

Christ, he wasn't even entirely sure why they'd tried so damn hard to kill them. Aside from the fact that they'd had a house full of walkers and a few big trucks, they knew next to nothing about these assholes. The only thing he could figure was that it was just the possibility that they knew more than they did that drove these people after them. Well, and they'd killed a handful of them. Was this group as tight-knit as their own? Daryl didn't get that impression. These guys seemed more like a fighting unit than a family. That was his thought, anyway. None of them had made a move to protect one another. Granted, they hadn't been given much of a chance to, Beth had struck like a fucking snake before they could even get a good look at her, but still. What'd they gain by setting up that shit in Lycroft?

No matter how he turned it in his head, it made no sense.

And ultimately, he reckoned that it didn't matter. Whatever was going on in those mountains, it had nothing to do with them, s'long as none of it spilled out towards the safe zone.

Daryl rubbed his fingers across his mouth as he shifted in the driver's seat. What if it did? What if they eventually set their sights on Alexandria, and he could have stopped it before it happened? Were they better off bringing more people back this way and finding out what exactly they were up to, or letting sleeping dogs lie and fortifying their walls? The fucking questions didn't stop. He growled to himself under his breath, spearing the flesh of his thumb on a canine as his eyes narrowed on the road. They had to actually get back to make those decisions.

Merle's voice was a low, harsh murmur in the back of his head that he tried to ignore. Reaching into the pack next to him on the seat, he pulled out a small can and cracked the tab. Holding it like a beer, he drank the syrup from the too sweet fruit cocktail, catching a cherry with his teeth. Wasn't much, but it'd quiet the rumbling in his belly for a bit. He glanced at the rearview mirror and for a second, and all he could see was waves of pale blonde whipping every which way. Then a hand lifted and tucked them back down, leaving the road clearly visible. He found himself half-wondering if all the light that was inside that petite frame flowed out in the color of her hair as much as it did in the way she looked and spoke. It was a stupid thought, and he knew it, but suddenly it felt like his hand was back in those strands, feeling their soft texture under his fingers.

_His grip tightened a fraction. He tugged her forward and she resisted, watching him with that damn stubborn look in her eyes. He could almost trace its presence throughout her face, in the set of her mouth, her jaw, the way her nose wrinkled just a little and her cheeks colored. His other hand shot down to her waist, gripping her by the hip and roughly pulling her against him. His hold forced her head back, her spine bending a little as their gazes locked._

He shook the memory away like a dog shaking away water, a slight tremor traveling up his spine. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt torn into so many pieces. Fuck, he'd been pissed with her. Proud at the same time, too. The woman seemed to have a way of twisting up his insides until he couldn't tell down from up. She turned his head inside out and it was driving him up the wall. He hadn't known what he was going to do when he'd gotten a hold of her, but when he had, he'd been damn sure that he wasn't letting go, not until they'd had an understanding.

He'd never been so fucking grateful that she could read him without him saying anything than right then.

Daryl raked a hand through his hair, shoving it out of his eyes before lowering it to dig in the breast pocket of his jacket. Pulling out his crumpled pack, he used his knee to steer as he tapped one out and stuck it between his lips. He fished out his lighter and flicked it with a click, then cracked the window open. The first drag of smoke made him groan as he put a hand back on the wheel. He glanced at the mirror again, clenching the cigarette in his mouth and lifting a hand to knock back against the window. Beth's head snapped up as her eyes met his. He canted his head, letting the question show on his face and she nodded. Her eyes fell closed slowly and deliberately, then blinked back open. Aaron was still out cold, which he figured was probably a good thing.

His eyes lingered on Beth for a couple seconds longer, tracing the contours of her features almost absently. Then his gaze flicked from hers back to the road. The sky was just starting to get good and dark. Couple more hours and he'd have to turn on the headlights. Hadn't been able to really see the last couple of nights, but by his reckoning, it was either a new moon or right after. Gonna be too dark to drive by moonlight. Shit might be attracted to the lights, but at the speed he'd set, he doubted it'd be anything that could keep up. They hadn't seen hide or hair of any other vehicles since they'd started back east and he hadn't seen any tire tracks in the debris that covered the road. He tapped the end of the cigarette against the edge of the window, the ash swept away in the truck's draft.

Now, it didn't mean there  _weren't_  other people out here; fucking Picksville had proven that. But with the remoteness of the area, he was mildly surprised they passed an abandoned service station, much less lanes leading towards houses. Daryl had doubts that anyone had been through this part of the country for a good long while. It wasn't a major highway and as far as he'd been able to see, didn't lead nowhere special, just more roads that eventually hooked up with other ones.

A knock on the window made him jump and drop the cigarette. "Shit!"

He smashed it under his boot to make sure it was out, cursing the waste of a good smoke. He angled his head to look back over his shoulder. Beth was pointing down at her lap with wide eyes.

"So much for a good thing," he muttered as he pulled the truck over and killed the engine, snatching the pack from the seat.

Hopping out, he vaulted over the side into the bed as Beth gently petted Aaron's hair, cradling his head on her folded legs. He was pale, his features pinched with pain, but his eyes were open and clear, and his breathing seemed regular.

"Hey man," Daryl said quietly, gripping the other man by his uninjured shoulder. "You still with us?"

Aaron's voice was dry, cracked like burnt paper as his mouth curled in a small half-smile. "Yeah."

He licked his lips and Beth reached for the pack Daryl had in his hand. Pulling out one of the water bottles, she twisted the top and helped him ease up to take a sip.

"Easy," she said, pulling it back when he weakly tried to grab it before telling him sternly, "Drink slow."

Aaron rasped out a chuckle, smirking up at her as she scowled at him.

"Well, you makin' a face like tha', I reckon gettin' shot ain't slowed ya down none," Daryl told him with a snort, moving and nudging Beth to move over. She shifted for him as he checked over the bandage beneath his jacket. "Hurtin' any?"

Aaron hissed in a breath as Daryl's fingers ran over the wound. "Like a son of a bitch."

Beth dug into the backpack again and pulled out the first aid kit. Ripping open a painkiller packet with her teeth, she dropped the tablets into her palm and reached around Aaron's head to hold them in front of his lips. She slipped them into his mouth then cradled his head again so that he could drink more water to swallow them.

"Ah, thanks, Sunshine," he murmured tiredly as she let his head fall back into her lap. He rolled his eyes so that he could look at Daryl. "So...what happened?"

Satisfied that the wrapping was still clean and tight, Daryl glanced at his friend. "Loaded question, man."

Aaron let out a laugh that quickly deteriorated into a cough. "Heh, ah! Don't...don't make bad jokes, Daryl. I don't think my ribs can take it."

"Ain't yer ribs ya gotta worry 'bout," he retorted, pulling his hands back and letting them dangle over his knees as he crouched with his back against the side of the truck. "Ya got shot, lost a good bit of blood, and made a brand new scar for yer man t'fawn over when we get back."

Aaron sighed heavily, shifting as if trying to get in a more comfortable position. "Well, there's that." Beth's hand on his chest stilled him. "We- ah, we headin' home?"

Daryl scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "Tha's the plan."

"How long have I been out?"

Beth slid her hand from his chest to his hand and wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing lightly. Her voice was soft. "Enough. Sleep awhile longer. Tell ya later, ok?"

Aaron tipped his head back to see her staring down at him, not unkindly, and after a beat, he nodded, huffing out another breath. "Fine. But I want the whole story then."

"Aright," Daryl grunted, pushing up and glancing up at the darkening sky. "Gonna try and keep pushin' on. Gonna get real cold soon, even if it don't rain. Think ya can sit up in the cab and ride?"

Aaron nodded again and tried to sit up. Beth supported him from behind as Daryl got out and dropped the tailgate. The curly-haired man scooted down the bed until his feet touched the ground. With a bracing hand on his good arm, Daryl helped him stay steady. Clenching his teeth, Aaron carefully put one foot in front of the other. He set himself up in the middle of the bench seat and Beth slid in beside him. Daryl popped the gate back up and climbed into the cab. He could already start to see his breath misting in the rapidly cooling air.

He glanced over at Aaron, noting the chalky quality to his features. His eyes slid to the other side of the truck, to where Beth sat and their eyes met. She was the first to look away with an expression of understanding, reaching up to gently tug on Aaron's head. He followed her silent instruction without a word, laying his head on her shoulder and closing his eyes, his wordless acceptance a clear testament to just how much of his behavior in the back had pretty much been bravado.

Beth met his gaze again, her arm curling around Aaron's head and quietly stroking her fingers through his hair like she'd been doing nearly the whole drive through the mountains. Concern was the primary thing he saw on her face, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth as she dropped her eyes to Aaron's face. She softly hummed and Daryl wondered if she was fully aware that she was doing it.

Maybe not, he thought to himself as he started the truck again, but that light of hers...well, it was just too bright and sweet a thing, too much a part of what made her Beth, to be lost to something as comparatively trivial as a gunshot wound. And Daryl was damn grateful for that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, back on track with regular updates! Woot, go me! :)
> 
> This chapter may feel a bit short, since it's mostly Daryl introspectin', but I felt like there was definitely some things that needed to get some kind of sorting in his mind, so there's not a whole lot going on in this one. I keep getting pulled back to writing chapters like this, especially with him, but I love playing in his head, lol. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed!


	39. Chapter 39

She was glad Aaron slept a while longer. He slept for a good while, actually. It'd been dark for several hours before he started stirring against her shoulder. Beth shushed him quietly as she shifted under his weight. Across the cab, Daryl glanced at her. She shook her head then ticked her chin down towards the map half-folded in her lap, a question in her expression. He nodded.

She returned the gesture slowly, her cheek rubbing against the top of Aaron's soft hair with the motion. They'd be on the lookout for a turn off soon, finally moving south. She glanced at the dash, noting that they had a little more than a quarter of a tank. They were going to have to stop before the sun came up, she was pretty sure, either to look for more gas or to change vehicles, if they could find one. Her fingernails gently dragged through the man next to her's curls. She didn't like the idea of making him walk with his injury, but he might have to. Her jaw tightened. She'd just have to make sure that Daryl took it slower than they had been if it came to that.

A hand at the back of her head made her angle it back towards the driver side. Daryl had slipped his arm behind Aaron, his fingers wrapping themselves in her hair and giving an easy tug.

"You aright over there?" he asked quietly.

She hummed in agreement, glancing over at him. "You?"

"Mm-hmm," he said, biting on one corner of his lip a second before adding, "Gotta be." He glanced at her, his fingers drumming on the wheel. "Right?"

"Mm-hmm," she echoed, closing her eyes as his fingers stayed against her hair.

It was instinctive, leaning her head into the touch and reaching up with her free hand to catch his. He stiffened for half a second. She ran her thumb along the ridges of his knuckles, mapping the nicks and scars with the pad of her fingertip. He relaxed almost instantly. Beth let her eyes crack open, watching the dull strips of yellow hurtle under the truck in the glow of the headlights.

Then they shot open.

"Daryl!"

The squeal of tires drowned out any reply he might have made. Beth wrapped her arms around Aaron as he jerked awake, bracing her feet against the glove box as Daryl slammed on the brakes. With a shuddering wrench, the truck stopped.

"Shit!"

Her head snapped up as Daryl cursed. She couldn't hear anything over the rumble of the engine, but, dear Lord, she could see. At least three dozen walkers, every single one of their heads turned towards the source of light.

"Herd," she hissed, before frantically gripping Daryl's arm. "Go!"

He hardly needed her prompting, shoving the truck into reverse before her fingers fully closed around his sleeve. The tires smoked, filling the air with the god-awful scent of burnt rubber and shrill squealing as Beth threw her arms around Aaron again, curling her body over his to keep him from being slung around as Daryl swung the truck in a half circle. Dirt spat out from under the back tires as he yanked the gearshift back into drive.

Something banged on the tailgate as they lurched forward. Her arms tightened around Aaron protectively.

"Go!" she repeated, her voice muffled against Aaron's temple as she bent her head over his.

If Daryl heard her, he didn't acknowledge it. The little truck lurched again, slamming Beth back against the seat. Aaron hissed out a pained breath. It brushed warmly over her collarbone, reminding her to ease her grip on him. He lifted up off her and she shifted on the seat, moving back from him.

Pale, he turned to look over at Daryl as he swayed upright. Somehow, he managed to smirk. "Couldn't find an alarm clock?"

"Fuckin' riot," came the dry response as he leaned forward, both hands on the wheel as he peered out of the windshield.

Beth flicked her gaze back and forth over the road, looking for any sign of movement. As many walkers as that had been, the chances were good there were more lurking around. Her fingers curled around themselves. Vanguard to a larger herd. That was possible. That was likely, actually. Her skin prickled.

Then she saw it. A hint of color in the dark- stained, bright.

She pointed. "More."

When she turned, she saw Daryl's eyes flick towards her. He pressed harder on the gas pedal. "We gotta get ahead of 'em."

"How are we going to do that when we don't know how big a herd this is?" Aaron asked, his voice a mixture of wryness and a thin note of anxiousness.

"You wanna sit here and wait t'count 'em?" Daryl snapped back, the muscle in his jaw visibly clenched, even in the dim reflection of the headlights.

"No, but I'd sure as hell like to hear a plan!"

Beth made a shushing noise, blindly groping for Aaron's hand and squeezing it as she kept her eyes trained out of her window, watching for more of the dead.

"Then get the map, tell me where the hell I can find another way around."

She swooped down and scrabbled for the map that had fallen out of her lap. Cold metal tapped against her knuckles and she glanced over to see a flashlight bouncing against the back of her hand. She took it with a curt nod, clenching the end between her teeth after clicking it on. Her finger trailed over the roads, spiraling around until she found a turnoff. Holding her index against it, she gave it to Aaron, who accepted it with a wince.

She held the flashlight steady for him as he squinted down at the paper. "Eh...looks like we can take highway 44 east."

Daryl glanced over. "Got one runnin' south further tha' way?"

"Yeah. 75, about thirty, thirty-five miles away, I'd guess."

"Fine, tha'll work." His eyes returned to the windshield. "Keep yer eyes peeled. Don' wanna give up the truck 'fore we hafta. We hit somethin', then we hafta."

Aaron leaned towards him, then pulled back. "We're gonna need gas before too long."

"Yeah, I know. We got any towns nearby?"

Beth clicked the flashlight on again, pointing the light on the map. "Kollie. On 44."

"Aright. We'll shoot fer there and hope like hell we're far 'nough out ain't nobody wai-"

He cut himself off as he suddenly swerved left. Beth braced her hands against the dashboard with a violent swear. Daryl jerked the wheel back right, around the walker that had stumbled onto the road. In the headlights, it snarled and reached out with clumsy hands, but they were already gone. As he straightened the truck, he looked across the cab towards her.

"Where the hell'd you learn t'cuss like tha'?"

"Probably from you," Aaron replied for her, rubbing at his shoulder and turning half towards her with a strained smile. "Isn't that right, Sunshine?"

Beth made a noncommittal noise as she watched his hand briefly and pulled her pack up between her legs. Fishing out the first aid kit, she tugged on Aaron's sleeve.

"Lemme see."

"Bossy woman," he teased her, but she could tell by his tone that his heart wasn't in it.

"You have no idea," she heard Daryl grumbled softly.

She ignored him, cracking open the small box and grabbing the roll of gauze. Unwrapping it, she gestured for Aaron to unbutton his shirt. Gently, she helped him out of it, and his jacket, mindful of how far he extended his arm. She was careful as she snipped the bandage from his body. Cradling the flashlight between her jaw and her neck, she shone it over the wound, keeping it angled down so she wouldn't get it in either man's eyes.

She focused on the wound itself. The skin around it was fairly clean, no sign of inflammation or irritation, no bleeding, all good signs. She clicked the light off and dropped it into the pack. With an easy touch, she pulled him a bit forward.

"It's a bigger herd aright," Daryl said, gesturing out the window, towards the woods. "Seein' couple blurs tha' ain't trees in there."

"Course there is," Aaron muttered, trying to keep still as Beth tore open an alcohol wipe and dabbed it against his skin. "Geh! Ah...damn. If there wasn't, I'd think I died already."

Daryl rubbed his fingers across his mouth with a snort. "And you wanna fuss at me 'bout bad jokes."

"Both of ya bad," Beth growled, double checking the wrapping to make sure it was snug, but not too tight.

"And you still love us, Sunshine."

"Hmm."

She didn't reply, tilting her head as she helped him shrug his shirt back on. She ripped open another packet of painkillers and handed it to him, along with a water bottle. Guided by her hands resting easily on his uninjured shoulder, he sat back against the seat.

Beth looked over at Daryl. "Any more?"

He dipped his head a couple times as he glanced back and forth between the window and the road. "Yeah, a couple."

Aaron grunted as he lightly probed the new bandage under his shirt. "Question is whether they're stragglers or the first few heading this way."

"Don't much matter," Daryl disagreed, slowing down just enough to take a curve. "Either way, we gotta get outta the area."

"What if they're in Kollie?"

"We keep movin'."

"That simple?"

"Again, you got a better idea?" Daryl snarled at him impatiently. "Cause I ain't seein' a whole lot of options here!"

This time Beth slipped her arm behind Aaron and stroked her fingers over the back of Daryl's neck, mimicking his earlier touch. The tension she felt there snapped tight, then loosened as he let out a hard breath.

"We see what we see," she said slowly.

The words fit her tongue, rolled off it so smoothly, so naturally. It was an odd comfort to say them. A plan that wasn't really a plan. But it was the best they could do because Daryl was right. They didn't have a whole lot of options. Somehow, it felt like that even though they were moving further away from the threats, they were getting put further in the corner. Her fingers tucked themselves against her palms, her nails digging into them as she watched the woods.

She sorely hated corners.


	40. Chapter 40

It felt like he'd spent the entire night dodging walkers, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Wasn't any question, this herd was huge, maybe bigger than the one that'd leveled the farm. He kept seeing stragglers along the side of the highway for miles as he drove, stumbling towards the headlights before they blew past. Probably two or more that'd met at some point and just kept rolling through the country. Maybe in a couple years, that's all that'd be around, big herds that roam back and forth. Daryl was just grateful that they appeared to be heading west, away from the safe zone.

The sun was just starting to peek over the trees, mist, and dew glittering along the road's shoulders. He glanced down at the dash, his fingers lifting off the wheel as he looked beneath them. The needle was teetering above the last big red line. He looked up again and saw another sign for Kollie, this one stating simple '2 miles'.

A can rattled noisily, pulling his attention across the cab. Beth tipped the small container of peaches up, tilting her head back as she caught a slice with her teeth before handing the can to Aaron. He took his own mouthful then passed it down to Daryl.

"I'm good," he said, shaking his head. The last thing he needed was to have the sensory memory peaches provided bouncing around in his skull.

A foiled bar landed in his lap. He picked it up with one hand, watching the people beside him side-eyed. They continued to split the can of fruit between them wordlessly. Smirking a little, he tore open the paper and bit into the bar with a crunch. It didn't have much of a flavor, but it was something in his belly, so he wasn't going to complain. He took the bottle of water Aaron offered him and swallowed the rest of the bar down.

"We're gonna make this quick," he said, handing back the bottle. "Stay tight when we get in there."

They looked at him and nodded, matching grim expressions set on their faces. It was going to be sheer fucking luck if they made it into town and there was anything standing. All three of them were aware of that, he was pretty sure. Considering the size of the herd, they'd be damn lucky if there weren't still any more walkers roaming around. But no one had that kind of luck anymore, so he reckoned they were going to have to just go in expecting the worst. Wasn't that all they did anymore? Expect the worst, and not even dare hope for the best.

Hope. It was a damn funny word. He wasn't entirely sure he knew what it meant anymore. The last time he could remember hoping for anything was Beth. It was the last time he'd prayed too. He'd wanted, more than anything, to find her safe in that hospital, whole and holding her arms wide to hug him with that warm, open smile of hers that made him feel like he was worth a second glance, like he meant something. If you wanted something bad enough, was that hope?

His eyes flickered towards her of their own accord. He wondered if she still had anything she wanted bad enough to hope for.

With a soft grunt, Daryl shook the thought away, focusing his gaze on the way the trees parted just ahead.

He grimaced. He hadn't been wrong. Weren't hardly anything left. Brick walls stood no more than waist high, the gutted remnants of houses, their roofs collapsed, their windows and doors shattered in thousands of trampled shards of wood and glass. The few cars that were still on the street were battered down, or tossed on their sides altogether, their spidering cracks and shorn metal all that was left. Trees had been uprooted, or simply stampeded over, limbs and leaves jumbling together with the remains of the truly dead, left to rot on their once kept lawns.

"It looks like a damn tornado passed through," Aaron murmured, his eyes wide and wary as they darted back and forth over the tiny neighborhood.

Daryl eased the truck over the debris, hoping like hell that nothing was large enough to pierce the tires. "Think a tornado might'a done less damage," he said gruffly.

"Probably. But I think we're behind them. Might be better than if we were ahead of them, really."

Daryl hummed deep in his throat before replying, "Well, I ain't never seen a herd make a U-turn, so I reckon tha's true enough."

The man beside him snorted and leaned forward, holding his arm tight against his body. Beth was already fingering the hilt of her knife, drumming her blunt nails along the sheath as her thumb traced the smooth leather wrapped around it. They crawled along the street, watching for movement, or a vehicle that was at least intact. The engine rumbled, loud enough to draw the attention of any nearby walkers. He spotted a couple wandering near the ruins of a cul de sac, but they were a good distance away, and eventually were out of sight as they rolled on into the main part of town.

For the first time he could remember, Daryl was actually grateful that the power grids had long since gone down. Telephone lines were strewn across the road, but they were well and dead, nothing more than thick strings of woven cable. A couple of poles lay where they'd fallen, impromptu speedbumps as the truck bounced over them, causing them to crack, dry and worn, under the weight of the truck. The buildings that were left were shells, empty and darkly gaping onto the two-lane street.

"At least there aren't any fires," Aaron said softly, watching the buildings slowly roll by. "If there were, I'd be worried there were people here. I don't think we could safely bring anyone back at this point."

Daryl grunted his agreement, pulling over towards the sidewalk. He could see a couple of cars and trucks that looked in relatively decent shape. One or two of them wouldn't run, he could see that from here, but they might still have some fuel.

"I'm gonna check the gas tanks. See if you two can find what we need t'get it out and into the truck. Push comes to shove, we'll just take one of 'em."

They nodded again and slid out, shutting the door back with a quiet creak. Daryl pocketed the keys in his jacket and climbed out too, slamming his door shut. He waited a couple of minutes, listening for shuffling steps or groans. The wind made things bang, whistled through open doors, and carried echoes of bird calls from somewhere, but that was pretty much it. Still, it was a hell of a lot better to actually hear something compared to the absolute silence that'd been in Lycroft. Beth and Aaron stepped onto the sidewalk at the end of the truck. They walked in his direction, then past him, but not before Beth reached out and touched a hand to his jacket.

"Be safe," she said in a low voice, her fingers curling against the thick material for a brief second and meeting his eyes.

Her jaw was set in that stubborn line that he knew all too damn well. She wasn't moving until he acknowledged her. He couldn't say that he blamed her. They were all hyper-aware of their surroundings after the last couple of days. So he dipped his head towards her. He wanted to tell her to keep an eye on Aaron, because he was family, and on where they were because he was so tired of burying people he gave a damn about. He wanted to make sure she understood not to do anything stupid. He wanted to her to get the hell out at the first hint of trouble, because, damn it all, they'd been through enough crap here lately. If they had to walk they'd walk. The truck wasn't worth shit compared to one blonde strand on her head, not after months of having to believe that he was never going to see even a hint of that color again. He wanted her to tap that barely healed hole in her head and remind her that he was tired of coming so close to losing her over and over again, even when he closed his eyes. He wanted to let her know that whether she meant to or not, she made Merle shut up and let him think in a straight line for more than a few minutes at the time, even as she scattered those thoughts like the heads on a dandelion when she had a mind to.

But those were all words that he didn't know how to say.

Instead, he settled for just telling her quietly, "Y'all too."

His hand came up to tug on her hair before he strode away from her and up the other side of the street.

There were large patches of shadow between some of the structures, the day still too early for the sun to have completely driven away all of the lingering night. He checked those places as he went. Good hiding spots, but as far as he could tell, there wasn't anything left in the area that was smart enough to take advantage of them. He figured that was a good thing, but he wasn't about to bank on it. It only took a couple of minutes at each car to find out that their tanks were tapped, or right at it. Someone had already come through here, it looked like, right up until the last truck on the street. It was a large rig, looked military, like the ones they'd seen in Picksville, only a deep, sandy color instead of green.

Daryl climbed up into the cab and cranked the key that still dangled from the ignition, ignoring the copious blood splatter that coated the window and stained the seat.

"Aright," he said to no one in particular, cutting the engine again and watching the needle plummet from the halfway point on the meter.

He hopped down, shutting the door out of habit more so than necessity and trotted back up the street, one hand gripping the strap of his crossbow. Thinking about the size a tank had to be for a vehicle that large, they'd probably get close to the equivalent of three quarters for their own truck. Wouldn't have to change it out, either. Might even push it right up to no more than a day from the safe zone. Daryl moved quickly past the empty buildings, his eyes sweeping inside just long enough to check for walkers or anything else that walked on two legs. He wasn't too worried about any animals they might come across. Most things would have moved on by now; there wasn't much for any predators to be hanging around here for.

A flash of blue out of the corner of his eye made him stop in front of a tiny hardware store. Looked like a family business rather than one of the larger chains that used to be damn near everywhere. He ducked underneath a fluttering tarp that someone had hammered across the broken doors, once used as a way to keep the elements out. At the sound of his boots crunching on glass, a streak of yellow and gray darted out from an aisle towards the other side of the store.

"Beth," he hissed, wary of letting his voice bounce around the cavernous space.

She poked her head out, the fierce look on her face melting away into something calmer. His lips quirked a little as Aaron cautiously crept out from behind her; the woman was damn protective of that curly-haired bastard here lately. He couldn't blame her for that. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Got a truck half full up the street. Y'all find anythin'?"

"Yeah," Aaron said, holding up a small gas can with his good hand while Beth reached down and plucked up a hose next to her feet.

Daryl ticked his head behind him. "Aright. Quicker we get movin' again, the better."

From the uneasy looks on their faces, he figured they were of like mind. Within an hour, they'd drain the rig and put as much as they could into their truck. It'd taken a few trips, but with Beth on watch with Aaron's rifle and Daryl hauling the can, it's taken less time that it might have. He tossed the half-full can into the truck bed, along with the hose.

"Reckon we oughta look for water?" he asked Aaron as he hefted the tailgate back up and locked it in place.

"Couldn't hurt, could it?" the other man replied, cradling his arm in the awkward sling he'd made out of the sleeves of his jacket. "There's supposed to be a river not too far south of us, but there's about as much a guarantee of it still running as there is of something having been left behind here."

Daryl started to reply, but the sound of boots pounding on pavement stopped him. He turned towards it and saw Beth running up to them with wide eyes. She grabbed Daryl's sleeve.

"Listen!"

It was a fight not to hold his breath or pay attention to the thud of blood in his ears at the hurried sharpness of the order. He struggled to obey, wondering what the hell she'd heard to spook-

His eyes narrowed. "Shit," he swore, the faint thunder of motors reverberating in the concrete under their feet as he roughly shoved Aaron's good shoulder and barked, "Move!"

Neither of them had to be told twice, throwing themselves into the truck as Daryl wrenched open the door on his side and jammed the key into the ignition. Gunning the engine, he shoved the shift into drive, the truck fishtailing wildly as he slammed his foot on the gas.

"I didn't think they would come out this far," Aaron panted as he twisted around to peer out of the back window.

"We killed their people," Daryl bit out, his tone hard as he swung the truck around a dangerously leaning light pole. "Killed their pet walkers, stole their shit, I think they got a right good set of reasons t'be pissed."

"Don't know it's them," Beth said from her side of the cab.

"Maybe we'd best assume it is, sunshine," the curly-haired man replied, holding his rifle in his lap with his good hand. "Better safe than sorry and all that, right?"

She hummed in seeming agreement as they tore past broken foundations and upturned vehicles before she reached into the pack at her feet and pulled out the map. Watching her examine it and tuck stray strands behind her ear with complete serenity made Daryl's mouth twitch again even as his muscles clenched tight with the harsh rush of adrenaline. Strong, quiet,  _practical_  little Beth Greene with her pretty blue eyes and hair like summer sunshine.

Christ, if he hadn't loved her before that moment, he did right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm killing myself here with all the suspense the story's building, but I can't say that I'm not enjoying myself, hehe. I love putting together these smaller moments and watching them come together. Thank you guys so much for all the love and support! Truly, y'all are the best readers ever! I adore every notification I get in my inbox! :D
> 
> Also, just a note, I know that last thought of Daryl's might seem out of left field, but I promise that it's going to be seriously addressed very soon in the next couple of chapters. I've got a plan, don't worry!


	41. Chapter 41

"Still nuthin'?"

Beth shook her head as she watched the back window, her fingers gripping the back of the seat. It'd only been a couple of hours, and although Daryl had turned the truck onto a couple of side roads, still pushing east and south, she'd still been constantly expecting to see something coming around the bend behind them. She almost dared to hope that they hadn't been followed at all, but she knew better than to let it kindle into more than a tiny kernel in her chest. No one had that kind of luck anymore.

She was crouched up like a frog, balanced on the balls of her feet and tucking her elbows along the tops of her thighs and her chin resting on top of her fingers. Her nose brushed against the cold glass. Every bump in the road made her sway slightly, rolling with the truck's shuddering, bouncing momentum.

"It didn't sound like they driving any of those big trucks," Aaron said, rubbing a hand along the strong line of his jaw. "Beth might have been right."

She heard Daryl grunt. "Don't matter if it was them or not. After all the shit we've seen the last few days, I ain't willin' t'take chances."

"Fair enough. I'm not sure that we could really recruit anyone in our current state anyway."

If Daryl had a sharp retort or an argument in mind, he didn't mention it. Beth glanced across the truck, noting the dark circles under his eyes, which were starting to look a little glassy. Unfolding her legs, she twisted so that she knelt on the seat, her chest level with Aaron's uninjured shoulder. She leaned over him to brace her hands both on the dashboard and window.

"Lemme drive." Daryl's head whipped towards her, his gaze narrowed like she'd said something dirty and she scowled at him. "You ain't slept," she pressed, tilting her head towards Aaron. "He can't drive."

Aaron touched her arm. "You haven't slept either, sunshine," he said gently, then added, "We should find somewhere we can stop for a while."

Dary shook his head. "We need t'keep movin'. Ain't no tellin' what's behind us and I ain't keen on lettin' 'em catch up enough to find out fer sure."

"Fine, but that doesn't change the fact that both of you have been up for over 24 hours. You're running on adrenaline and that's going to wear off eventually. _That_ crash and burn is an acceptable risk?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, man," Daryl growled. "All I'm sayin' is tha' we need t'put some more distance between us and them, whoever the fuck they are."

Beth was in agreement. She was tired. Her eyes were dry and itchy, but it was a discomfort she'd rather endure than potentially experience the alternative if that group ever caught up with them. So far, they'd been at least a step even, if not ahead, in every encounter, but if they really were pursuing them this far, a hundred or more miles outside of their established territory…

Her scowl deepened as she tuned out the men's back and forth conversation, turning to look out the back window again. It didn't make sense. Granted, there were few things floating around in her skull that did, but no matter how she looked at it, she couldn't make heads or tails of it. That persistent, nagging question of 'why' was tapping at the back of her head and she couldn't ignore it. The longer they were out here, the more important it seemed to become, a fact that irritated her more than she would have liked to admit.

What possible reason could these people have for pursuing them this far, if indeed, it had been them? As soon as she'd heard the rumble of engines, she'd bolted towards Daryl, her instincts screaming that it didn't matter who it was, any soul they encountered out there was a threat. After Picksville and Lycroft, she wasn't inclined to question her gut. Like the man had said, better safe than sorry. Still, it bothered her. Revenge was a powerful motivator, but that didn't feel right.

Her thoughts drifted to the brief encounters they'd had, the harsh scents of blood and ammonia a sharp tang in her nose. Fear, surprise, anger that had burned hot too late; those were the things that had flashed through their eyes. She recalled how they'd stood, huddled together facing the same direction, or completely separate, isolated from one another. No one watched the others' backs. No sense of camaraderie, of unity. Loosely tied together either by some form of need or obligation, she'd observed no loyalty and no concern.

A pack of dogs with no clear hierarchy or structure, and more than one of them rabid enough to attempt to tame walkers. That seemed familiar.

The back of her head gave a painful twinge and she absently rubbed at it.

She'd seen. She'd seen more than she could remember. Knowing that bothered her too. Her hand slipped from her hair to her cheek, her fingers sweeping up to run back and forth over the rough scar there. Wrong. Always wrong? Maybe. Maybe she was actually right. Maybe what was before was wrong. Her eyes darted towards Daryl. Sometimes, when he looked at her, she thought that it was both. She was right and wrong, now and then, straddling the line between who he remembered and who was standing in front of him. Fractured, broken, but not cleanly. The edges in her head were jagged and torn, exploded apart then jammed back together. Sometimes the pieces fit, sometimes they didn't. In the last couple of days, she hadn't given it a whole lot of thought. No room to play with the fragments of that puzzle. Keep moving, think about it later.

_We gotta go, Beth._

She squinted out the window. Was it always going to be like this?

_Don't let the roots grow too deep, Bethy._

A piece of flotsam in the wind, drifting like a spider's thread torn from its moorings, her existence mirrored her mind. Tug just a little, pull too hard, and it would likely all unravel. Maybe that was why it hurt so much to think about it. A warning that she was treading too close to the edge, straying too far into the dark with no rope around her middle to haul her back.

Aaron's voice cut into her musing, his arm brushing against hers as he pointed at the windshield.

"Look, there's a lane right there. We can check it out, see if there's food or at least a game trail to follow. If you're right about how much longer we have until we get back, then we're going to need more than what we've got left."

It was a valid point, although Daryl seemed less than thrilled to know that. She didn't know why and it didn't occur to her to ask. She simply reached down and picked up her pack, her lips pressing together thinly at its lightness. She plopped it into her lap.

"He ain't wrong," she said evenly, jiggling the rucksack for emphasis.

Eyes like flint settled on her for a long moment before they flicked back towards the road, a low sound rumbling from his throat.

"Aright. But we ain't stayin' long, y'all hear me?"

Both of them nodded.

The truck pulled onto the narrow dirt lane just off the highway. It branched off in a couple of places, and Daryl chose the one on the left, following its curve around a thick set of oak trees. The whitewashed, single story house that had been set back from the road was small, and once neatly trimmed in green. Bushes that had been planted as accents were now choked with weeds and towered well above the porch rail, completely obscuring the windows. The front door swung on broken hinges, pushed open by stray gusts only to sway forward again.

They parked on the backside, keeping the truck out of sight. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Beth climbed out. Tucking her hair away from her face, she reached up to gather it with both hands, letting it fall down her back as she watched the dark back windows, still just barely visible. She felt Aaron grab her shoulder, using it to steady himself as he got out.

When he released her, she angled her head to look up at him. His eyes fixed on the house and he murmured, "Lonesome place."

Daryl came around the front of the truck, his crossbow in hand and the second pack fixed across his back. "Better than some places I've seen. Leastwise on the outside."

Beth hummed in agreement under her breath and started forward, her knife already sliding out of its sheath. She sidestepped to the right of the door, stooping a little to peer beneath the fluttering curtains that pushed through its broken window. A damp, earthy smell was carried in the air from inside, stale and musty. But empty.

She eased the door open, catching sight of Daryl's dark clothing as he took a position across from her, a bolt already loaded in the bow. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, his index finger resting next to the trigger as he watched her. Carefully, she stuck her head inside, craning her neck as she looked around the dim main room that served as kitchen and living area. She could see where someone had boarded up the front windows, covering them from the inside like the bushes did on the other side of the wall. She stayed still for several heartbeats, listening. Then she pulled back, her free hand resting on the doorknob.

"Nuthin'," she said softly.

He inclined his head to her, lowering his weapon and jerking his chin in Aaron's direction. "C'mon."

Beth didn't wait for them, opening the door wide so that they could enter behind her. She headed for the far arched doorway. Her body ached, the crash Aaron had promised seeming to have finally starting to hit her. She didn't even pause, just tossed her pack next to the double bed on the left side of the room and collapsed on the mattress. It sank under her weight, disturbing the light layer of dust billowing up and tickling her nose. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, curling her arms so that her cheek rested on top of them. She felt someone lift her legs and put them on the bed before it gave beside her. Cigarettes and leather overcame the staleness permeating the room and she breathed it in, wriggling on her stomach until her side pressed against something warm. An arm flopped down over her waist, its owner too tired to apparently bother worrying about where it landed.

Exhaustion seeped into her bones, dulling the world. She let it take the last of her thoughts and spin them into a sweet blackness, grateful for the silence that finally blanketed her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed putting this chapter together! It almost felt like it was writing itself and that was pretty awesome, lol. Have I mentioned lately how much I love you guys and your amazingness? Well, I do! Thank you all so much! :)


	42. Chapter 42

He could smell rain.

Eyes cracking open a fraction, Daryl shifted where he lay, moving closer to the slight source of heat that was nestled against his front. His fingers flexed into something smooth, and he ran the pads in a tiny circular pattern, exploring by touch. Warm material covered the back of his hand. It rasped over his knuckles, catching on the rough patches of scarred skin. His other arm was tucked around the tiny bundle of warm softness and his nose was buried in it, that cool scent drifting past his nose with every breath.

 _Beth_.

Awareness filtered into consciousness. He exhaled heavily and pulled her closer, curling his larger frame around her and stroking his other hand down the gently sloping curve of her back. His hand had trailed beneath the hem of her sweater and his fingers didn't slow in their tracing of her skin. He felt her lips against his neck, moving in a quiet murmur and his eyes closed again. Just a few minutes, he told himself. Just a few minutes to allow himself to feel this; this stillness inside him that was warm and comforting. Everything else could go fuck itself. He didn't want to move from where he was, didn't want to even acknowledge that any of the world existed beyond the bed they were lying on. It was selfish and stupid, but…

One of Beth's legs stretched out and hooked beneath his, distracting him. Her thigh slid between his and he felt her fingers flex where they were cupped together between his chest and hers. Without opening his eyes, he angled his head down and rested his chin on her hair, silently coaxing her to stay still and sleep a while longer. His free hand slid up to the back of her neck, his fingers kneading in a motion that was instinctive and hopefully reassuring. He wasn't sure what he was doing. It was a gut feeling. There was an instant shift in her body, the slight tension dissipating, that made him think it was right. He tugged on her hair with a light pressure, pressing his face into the strands.

He felt her move again, tipping her head back. Her breath was hot where she sighed into his neck, the sensation enough to make him shiver a little. God, she felt good. He lifted his head from her hair and looked towards the single window that was fixed over the bed. The sun had set some time ago. A wall of black pressed against the glass. Crickets and the occasional katydid chirping were the only sounds to filter through the panes.

How long had they been out?

He glanced towards the doorway that led into the main room. A tiny blue-tinted glow illuminated the walls, steady and soft-edged. Aaron had let them sleep and kept watch. A surge of guilt built up in his belly. He should have woken them up. They shouldn't have stayed here this long. The risk of getting caught only got worse the longer they lingered in the area. The damn fool knew that. Beth murmured something unintelligible, pulling his attention back to the woman lying next to him. She made a quiet mewling sound then stretched slightly. One of her hands moved from between them and slipped around his middle while the other slid up to curl under the pillows. She nuzzled her nose against the hinge of his jaw and his eyes closed again as something hot tugged low in his belly. Christ, she was so damned sweet.

She made him feel things he didn't understand. He'd never been aware of his own heartbeat until her, tripping it into rhythms that were unfamiliar. He hadn't been aware of a lot of things before her. Like the fact that sunshine had a smell or that blue had rapidly become his favorite color. He hadn't known that the taste of peaches could haunt a man or that being next to one another could soothe their nightmares. She'd put some of the pieces in his head back right when he wasn't looking, brought things out from the dark that he hadn't realized he'd been missing. She'd done that even before Atlanta. And she was still doing it. Probably didn't even know.

The light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

Still didn't change his opinion that he was a fucked up son of a bitch for thinking some of the things he did. Who the hell in their right mind thought about licking blood off a woman, for fuck's sake? His fingers stopped their movements, withdrawing from beneath the hem of her sweater and gripped her hip, tense. As if in reflex, Beth arched her back and pressed into him, her hand stroking the back of his jacket like she knew that he was thinking too much.

"Daryl," she whispered with a voice that was a sleepy, honeyed drawl that made his breath hitch. Damn, his name never sounded that good when anyone else said it.

Yeah, fucking thinking too much.

"S'aright," he muttered back to her, easing her back so he could sit up. "Gonna check on Aaron. You can sleep a lil while longer if ya want."

It was a testament to just how tired she was that she didn't argue with him, just sighed and rolled over. Shoving a hand through his hair, he dropped it and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He reached up and pulled the curtains shut over the window. Squinting as he walked into the other room, his eyes searched out Aaron's lanky frame and found him near the front door. He'd clearly been busy, pulling the door back onto its hinge and making sure the back window was completely covered.

His friend ticked his chin towards him then gestured to the crack in the door he'd left, his voice quiet and deep. "Found a lantern. Light doesn't spill out the door so it works."

"Fine." Daryl moved to look out one of the back windows. "Reckon you ain't seen anythin'."

"Not so far, no. I can't say whether that's good or bad though." There was a rough chuckle. "It makes me a bit more anxious the longer we go without seeing anything. Makes me start wondering when something is going to pop out and fuck us over like in those old horror movies."

"Heh, you and me both, man." He turned away from the window, leaning a shoulder against the wall as he tucked his hands under his arms. "We weren't supposed t'stay this long."

Aaron glanced over at him. He shrugged.

"Y'all needed the sleep."

He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek for a long moment then decided to let it go. Weren't nuthin' he could do about it now.

"Any idea what time it is?"

"Hasn't been dark long." Aaron lifted a hand and rubbed his shoulder. "I'd guess somewhere around nine, maybe ten."

Daryl grunted. "Gonna be a long night." He looked back out into the dark. "Rain's comin'."

"Yeah, I can smell it. Hopefully, it'll slow down anybody out there looking for us."

"Hmm. Maybe. Ain't gonna bet on it." He shifted against the wall. "Almost don't wanna wait till mornin'."

Aaron turned to watch him impassively for a long minute. Then he said, "You think that's best? There's a lot of things we could run up on out there. Might get more attention than we want with headlights too."

"Day or night, an engine's loud," Daryl pointed out gruffly and Aaron didn't seem to have an argument to counter that point. He jerked his head towards the small table, decision made. "Lemme check tha' shoulder out. Then I reckon we can get Beth up and get the hell out of here."

Aaron's smile was wan. "And here I was thinking this place was right charming."

Daryl didn't take the bait for banter, kicking out a chair for the taller man to sit in. Aaron eased himself down while he rummaged through the pack on the table, pulling out the small first aid kit. Pulling aside his friend's shirt and jacket, he grabbed the lantern and set it closer.

"Looks aright," he muttered, feeling a little relieved. They were running low on bandages and they needed to keep it clean and wrapped. "Hurtin'?"

"Not to the point I can't stand it yet," Aaron replied with a wince as Daryl probed the wound carefully. "Unless you keep that up, Nurse Ratched, in which case, go ahead and give me something."

He dropped his hands away and put the kit back in the rucksack."Keep talkin', smart ass, let's me know yer alive."

Looks like he was taking the bait anyway.

"I can see why Sunshine likes you so much. You're the definition of the southern gentleman."

Daryl snorted, appreciating the man's dry humor. Some of the tightness in his shoulders eased and his mouth twitched. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his diminishing pack and his lighter.

"Yeah, but I ain't got yer way with words," he said, smoke billowing out his nose as he pinched the cigarette between his first two fingers.

Aaron rolled his shoulder stiffly. "I've yet to meet anyone who does, truth be told."

"Arrogant bastard, ain't ya?"

"And I have every reason to be." He smirked and Daryl returned the expression.

They shared that look for a beat then Aaron was pushing himself up. "Finish that crappy smoke of yours and wake up Beth while I see what I can find in the kitchen."

Daryl sobered and nodded, the rise in his mood dropping abruptly. He glanced to the side, towards the dark bedroom. He knew she'd understand why he couldn't let her get a few more hours sleep, but that didn't mean that he didn't want her to. If there was one good thing about the safe zone that he could count off, it was that so far, it had proven to be a dependably safe shelter. As long as they were outside those walls, they weren't going to have that. She knew it as well as he did. Probably why she slept so damn hard when she got the chance. Take what little you could get while you can. Words to live by, as the saying went. Words he was seriously thinking about taking to heart.

Especially when it came to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I loved writing this! I hope y'all enjoyed and please keep the kudos and comments coming! They keep me posting speedy updates! :)


	43. Chapter 43

After three days, the truck was starting to feel cramped. Beth shifted against the passenger door restlessly, shooting a longing glance out the back window towards the bed. Her hands were tucked inside her sleeves, her fingers digging into the fabric as she pressed them together on her lap, her knees drawn up and her boots braced against the dash. The worn collar cradled her chin, tickling her lips as she turned and dipped her head down a little, watching the road wind ahead of them. Or what little she could see of it between the rain and the dim glow of the headlights.

Water was falling in bent sheets, splattering against the windshield like wet bullets, pounding on the roof loud enough to drown out any other sound. So loud, in fact, she could barely hear herself think. Maybe that wasn't so bad. Nothing she'd thought of lately had been doing her, or anyone else, much good.

Something was nudged against her elbow. She looked down to see a wrapped granola bar being offered to her. Her eyes flicked up to Aaron's as he held it out to her.

"Eat something. Gonna be a while before we stop again," he said.

She nodded and took it from him wordlessly. The oats were tasteless in her mouth as she chewed, watching the torrent blacken the trees from her window. She nibbled on one end of the bar, propping her elbow on the other forearm. The muscles in her calves flexed as she gently rocked her heels back and forth, the toes of her boots staying balanced on the dashboard. Aaron shifted next to her, holding his injured shoulder forward while pressing his weight back on the other against the seat. With his good arm, he flapped the map in his lap, flicking out its edges before smoothing it over his thighs and tracing over its surface with a finger.

"If we keep up with the backtracking, it'll be after midnight before we get to the gate." Daryl hummed a noncommittal rumble from his side of the truck, one wrist casually propped on top of the wheel as he chewed on his thumbnail. Aaron looked over towards him with a slight frown. "You're thinking longer?"

Daryl dropped his hand from his mouth. "I'm thinkin' we ain't takin' the truck all the way up. Park it."

"And walk how far?"

"Couple miles, maybe."

Beth only half-listened, folding the wrapper over the partially eaten food. She wasn't hungry. She was restless. Her fingertips ticked against one another in a mindless rhythm as the wet road steadily fell away under the truck. For the first time in nearly a month, her head felt empty. She wanted to bask in it, wrap herself in the blank darkness and just breathe. She wanted to savor the quiet stillness in her skull for as long as it lasted because she knew that it was fleeting. No questions, no memories, no dreams...it was a state of being that was highly prized and all too brief.

And decidedly not perfect.

Although her head was silent, her body wasn't. Her senses felt as though they tingled. Every smell, every sound, every touch was like static, sharp and prickling. Where her mind was untroubled, her gut was a tight coil. Her legs were practically vibrating now, their tempo speeding up as she pushed the balls of her feet against the dash, her heels clicking on the plastic before retracting again, faster and faster as the miles slid them closer to the safe zone. She wanted to pace, to run her hand in a line around the cab and map out by touch the confines of her mobile cage. Her instincts screamed entrapment even as the quiet in her mind attempted to hush them.

It was strange.

And it made what should have been a comfort into a kind of torture. She'd been looking for ways to shut her thoughts out again like she had when she'd walked with Morgan, and now that she had it, for however little time she had it, she could have wished it away. Because it made the churning in her belly worse, made her more aware of her surroundings and as long as she was in that truck, she wanted to be anything but.

Thinking, not thinking, it was all jumbling up on her now. Her breath gave a tiny hitch as the tightness swirled up through her chest, catching in her throat. Her fingers tripped into a faster beat, unconsciously matching the soft tap of her boots as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Her body was curling in on itself, her shoulder folding forward as she hunched over her legs. The thud of her heart was a hard thump against her ribs. Her skin itched.

As if sensing the unrest in her, Daryl changed hands on the wheel and reached behind Aaron to firmly tug on her hair, making her momentarily freeze. "Get outta yer head, woman, we need eyes up here on the road."

She almost snapped at him that she wasn't in her head, that it was part of the problem, but she held her tongue still. It wasn't an argument she could successfully make, partially because she wasn't sure it was even true.

Beth felt his eyes on her, watching her profile as she stared hard out of the windshield. With clenched teeth, she tried to will the sensation crawling up and down her body away, but it clung to her bones like damp grass. She could almost smell her own anxiety, pungent and harsh, irritating and compounding the feeling that racked her body, a feeling that she couldn't name. It was like she couldn't catch her breath.

Abruptly, Daryl swerved the truck to the side of the road, where several trees hung low branches above the narrow road, creating a tunnel of rain-dark colors.

Jerking his head towards her, he said in a low voice, "Get some air."

She didn't fully understand the phrase, but she got the meaning that he wanted her out. Shoving her door open, she swung her legs off the dash and onto the slick asphalt, ignoring the hard drops suddenly pelting her shoulders. Slamming it shut again, she strode towards the back of the truck. The wave of relief that washed over her was so strong that it left her limbs feeling like rubber, leading her to just let the tailgate fall instead of lowering it like she normally might have. Dampness soaked into her jeans as she sat down, her legs dangling in the air. The trees provided shelter from most of the rain, allowing only stray droplets to slip through their leaves. They splashed in her hair, catching in the pale strands then sliding coldly down beneath the collar of her sweater.

The sound of the driver's side door opening and shutting was a muted echo, followed by the muffled shuffle of boots. She kept her head down, watching the tiny ripples appear and break apart in the puddles on the highway. The truck shifted under her, a warmth spreading along her side as Daryl sat beside her on the tailgate. There was a click and the scent of cigarette smoke flooded her nostrils.

For a while, how long, she didn't know, they sat with neither of them saying a word. Beth didn't look up and Daryl didn't make any attempt at trying to get her to talk. She appreciated that. What could she have said anyway? She had no idea what had been going on in the cab, had no words for it. It hadn't been fear, exactly. Something else, something just as unsettling, but sharper, the edges harder as the feeling had shot through her body, scraping her insides like talons.

Finally, she saw the smoking butt of his cigarette land on the ground in front of her. She heard him exhale before he spoke, his voice warmly gruff, like sun-chapped leather.

"You ever think 'bout before?" She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he rolled he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Before Morgan?"

Unsure of where he was going with the question, she turned to look at him fully, her head dipping in a slow nod.

"Sometimes."

There was a pause before he asked quietly, "You remember much 'bout Grady?"

The question made her frown. The name was familiar. It's syllables, as low and drawled as he said them, brought the feelings from within the truck back like a sledgehammer.

_I sing...I still sing._

_Stuffed heat, dark and suffocating as her nails tear into metal. Shrill shrieks that she can barely hear over her own screaming. Pain, blackness, dying, help, getoutgetoutget-_

_Blinding sunlight, then shadow, blocking light, revealing it again. Gulping breaths, scrambling out of the dark, eyes too wide, can't blink. The road is hard under her knees. Gagging, coughing, another breath. A bottle is pressed against her mouth and she drinks greedily._

_"Ya got a name?"_

She watched him lick his lips. His features had drawn back into an expression that seemed pained. Something rose in her, a desire to ease that look, to comfort, so she leaned her weight against him. Her shoulder bumped gently into his and she rested her cheek against the sleeve of his jacket, ignoring the cold dampness on the fabric that chilled her skin. She felt more than heard the shuddering breath he let out. She stared down at the road, waiting.

But when he stayed silent, she started talking instead.

"Don't 'member much," she admitted softly, her brows drawing together. "Remember bein' made wrong...'member the dark...and the heat. Woke up in a trunk hurtin'. S'all."

"S'nough," he said and she felt his chin brush the top of her head. "Reckon tha's wha' was buggin' ya in the truck. Gettin' kinda cozy in there."

She hummed under her breath and shrugged. She didn't know. It was possible. Probable. When she lifted her head, he still had that same expression, like he was thinking about something bad. It looked like a hard memory.

Like a regret.

"What?" she asked, reaching up to brush a hand through his hair without a thought.

He seemed to shake it off, whatever it was that was on his mind. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached up to wrap his fingers around hers.

"Nuthin'." He tipped his head back towards the window. "Think you can stand bein' in there a lil while longer?"

She squeezed his hand in an affirmative and brought them up, rubbing her cheek against the back of his knuckles. Her eyes met his, a weird flutter erupting in her chest at the intensity reflected in them. She swallowed hard as he moved his hand from her loose grasp and threaded it through her hair. He gripped it tightly as he searched her face for a long moment, tugging with a light pressure, just enough for her to feel it. It was an odd thing to her, and yet natural, the way it made everything in her body relax as if that tension was a trigger that loosened the coiled, negative feeling that had been a lead weight in her gut.

She reflexively moved closer to him, leaning into his touch and his fingers spread until he was cupping the back of her neck with his palm. His gaze drifted over her and she felt it like a physical caress.

"Beth," he said roughly, his voice gravelly.

There was something fierce in the way he breathed out her name, in the way he looked at her, covetous but tempered with something she couldn't find the words to describe. It made her features soften and flood with heat, her skin flush. They held that look for a long moment. The air between them felt heavy with something neither of them could say but they both could silently acknowledge. There was comfort there, and affection, and a _want_ that threatened to make her breathless.

Abruptly, he dropped his hand, releasing her.

Taking a deep breath, she hopped up, her boots splashing in the puddle under the gate. He straightened up and reached down to push the gate back into position with a hollow clang.

"C'mon," he rasped, giving her a light shove in the middle of her back.

She followed the direction, walking around the side of the truck and climbing back into the cab. If Aaron had a comment, he kept it to himself, his head bent as he studied the map in his lap. She touched his arm, making him look up with a slight smile. There was a knowing look in his eyes as well as a question. She tipped her head towards him, her lips twitching in response. She was alright. She glanced at Daryl as he started the truck again, a warmth blooming in her chest. He'd made sure she was alright. He always made sure she was alright. She'd make sure he was too, she promised herself as the truck lurched forward again. Whatever it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another update! Finally, we're closing in on the safe zone again. New plot twists, a return to Team Family, and what we're all here for, more Bethyl goodness. Gah, I'm so excited to be moving the story in this direction! Thank y'all so much for sticking with Feral and with me. Thank you for the support and the love. :D


	44. Chapter 44

Daryl tapped his finger on the top of the steering wheel, his other hand wrapped around his jaw and covering his mouth, rubbing its callouses back and forth across his lips. The rain hadn't let up. If anything, it continued to fall in slick, thunderous sheets, the pounding of the drops hitting the hood echoed by the actual thunder that boomed every couple minutes. Lightning crackled in blinding streaks, splintering the sky only to stab down to some unknown point behind the trees that lined both sides of the road.

The truck had slowed to a crawl, hardly coasting at thirty, but Daryl didn't dare drive faster, not with the highway turning slick as glass and being unable to see more than a few feet in the sputtering headlights. He glanced to the side, his gaze passing over Aaron's lightly dozing form, towards the slight figure huddled against the passenger door. The glow from the dashboard clock barely outlined the shape of her features, but he could still see the tight lines that had set in at the corner of her eye. Her fingers were tapping against themselves in her lap, but her feet, at least, were still, not like before. Her digits' twitching betrayed the nervous energy he knew she was trying hard to keep reined in.

His gut clenched like a vice.

_There was no time._

_Her body was warm, but so still...so still...like a ragdoll, her arms dangled limply against his back as he ran with her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. But he wasn't leaving her here._

_"Daryl, we can't-"_

_"Fuck you, Maggie!" he snarled, keeping his arm around her legs so she wouldn't slip from him. The brunette had recoiled from him, her tears still fresh and trailing down her cheeks, but he didn't see that. Didn't want to see it. His own eyes stung and he ignored it, focusing on keeping his feet moving._

_"Daryl." Another voice, Rick's voice, quiet but compelling._

_He knew. Jesus fucking Christ, he knew what they had to do, but it was going to tear another piece out of his chest to do it._

_He spared the car beside them a glance and swallowed hard, reluctantly shifting her weight to his arms. The trunk was wide open, heat wafting up from where it had baked in the sun. Gently, he laid her body inside, tucking her legs to the side._

" _Daryl," Rick said again, sharper, biting._

_Daryl didn't look at him. The snarls were echoing, bouncing off the tall buildings on either side of them. He cast a glance over her face one last time, his chest tightening painfully at the blood still trickling down her cheek in a single red line. He reached up and jerked the trunk lid down with a slam, sealing her inside._

There had never been a more ill-suited coffin.

And it nearly had been, he thought grimly. He'd damn near killed her. It'd been sheer fucking luck that Morgan had walked by that car. Hell, he was willing to attribute it to the hand of God Himself, as damn impossible as it should have been. No one in his right mind would have bet on those odds. Didn't change the fact that he was thankful...or guilty as fucking sin. Knowing that he hadn't been the one to make that call didn't absolve him. He'd been the one to put her in there, trapping her in the hot dark, alone and wounded.

He wondered if she suspected what'd happened. His belly churned. He should have grown a pair and just told her. It wasn't like she needed protecting from him, not from things like that. She knew damn well what the world was like now, _had_ known for a long time. It wasn't like he was doing her any favors by keeping his trap shut.

But it wasn't really about her, was it? Merle's voice piped up from the back of his head. S'all 'bout makin' sure she don't stop lookin' at ya like yer worth a damn, ain't it, baby brother? Just gotta keep them pretty blue eyes focused on wha' ya want her t'see. And even tha' ain't worth chicken shit.

Daryl's hand on the wheel constricted, his knuckles paling. Fuck, she deserved so much better than a redneck asshole that couldn't get his head on straight to save his life. For probably the hundredth time, he wondered what the hell he was doing. It seemed like every time he tried to answer that question, he couldn't come up with a definition that he could agree with. She meant something. She was more than a willing female body to warm his bed. She gave a damn. She'd proven that more than once. That expression on her face when she'd looked at him on the tailgate…

Christ, the woman turned his head inside out. It was enough to drive a preacher to drink. He wanted to wrap his arm around her just as much as he wanted to find something solid to pin her against and bury himself. She was summer sunshine and peaches, so damned bright and sweet that sometimes it just hurt to look at her, but he how was he supposed to not look at her? She pulled at him like a magnet, even when she wasn't doing anything but sitting still. He shook his head roughly; thinking too fucking much again.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on top of the steering wheel and squinting into the storm. The windshield wipers could barely keep up, sluicing more water across the glass than they actually cleared away.

Quietly, he angled his head towards to the right and asked, "How much further we got on the map?"

He heard a rustling beside him as Beth gently took the paper from Aaron's lap, probably being careful so she didn't wake him. That was good. Poor bastard was better off sleeping as much as he could. The gunshot wound was still clean and clear, but they'd run out of painkillers. At least as long as he wasn't awake, he didn't feel it.

Beth's voice was soft as she answered him, "Few more miles." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her head come up. "Wait out the storm?"

He hummed in acknowledgment, his head dipping down in an affirmative as he watched the road. "Ain't gonna make him walk in this shit."

He figured it was enough of an answer since she didn't reply. Hopefully, nothing else was walking around out there either. There was a nudge on his arm and he blindly reached out to accept the water bottle that she passed to him over their sleeping friend. He twisted off the cap and took a long pull. It tasted stale, and warm as piss, but it was wet. As he handed it back, he debated on whether or not it would be worth it to refill all the bottles they had with rainwater, as close as they were to the zone. Probably. Beth seemed to have the same thought. She'd already pulled both packs into her lap and was digging through them, lining up the plastic containers in the space on the seat between her hip and Aaron's.

Daryl started to look to the sides of the road, hunting for familiar landmarks. The dark always changed how things looked, but when the first couple of buildings rose up out of the murk, he relaxed a little. Finally, finally, he knew exactly where they were at. The truck swung up between two of the burnt out structures and he immediately switched off the engine. The dark closed around them like someone had dropped a thick, noisy blanket. Fat drops still banged on the roof, pelting the windows mercilessly as his eyes adjusted. There was the creaky sound of a door being slowly opened. He eased his foot off the brake and the truck rolled a little further forward. The patter lessened, the volume of the storm decreasing somewhat as they ended up parked beneath an overhang.

Easing his own door open, he slid out of the truck, his boots sinking deep into the ground. Mud sucked at his feet as he shut the door as quietly as he could. Slushing through the mire, Daryl rounded the end of the truck and climbed up into the back. He crouched down and grabbed the rolled up tarp that had been kept beneath the back window. With a hard flick of his arms, it unfurled along the bottom of the bed. From where he was kneeling, it was relatively dry, the tarp affording a less damp seat than the bare metal of the bed, so he shifted to put his back against the cab, his legs bent in front of him and his crossbow in his lap.

Beth vaulted over the side, her boots slamming into the tarp. She cradled their water bottles against her chest with one arm, using her other hand to catch her balance. Moving to the exposed tailgate, she lined the bottles up along it, pocketing the caps in her jeans. Then she was sitting beside him, tucking her legs Indian-style and crossing her arms. Her shoulder touched his bicep.

Neither of them said anything, either retreating into their own minds or simply keeping watch, who could tell? Still as carved stone, they sat beside one another, their gazes facing forward and their heads resting against the cold glass behind them. It felt good to shut it all down, their senses tuning into their environment and nothing else.

It was hours before the storm passed, still quite a while before dawn. By then, however, Aaron had woke, rapping on the window with the knuckles of his good hand. Daryl reached up and knocked back without turning around. There was a shuffling, followed by the distinct squeal of a window being rolled down.

"Where are we?"

Daryl angled his head towards the driver's side as Beth moved away to collect the bottles back up, now full to the brim with fresh, clean water.

"Few miles outside the zone. We could walk it in about an hour, maybe two if the shitty weather keeps up."

"With our run of luck here lately, I'd count on it staying shitty," Aaron replied dryly as he leaned out of the window. "Are we waiting until morning or just until we catch a break in the storm?"

"Nah, was waitin' on you t'get yer ass in gear, s'all."

His lips twitched as the curly-haired man snorted. He watched Beth as she jumped down off the side of the truck and moved to the passenger door with the bottles. Grunting, he pushed himself up, leaving the tarp where it was. Someone would be coming for the truck. No point taking more than they could comfortably carry now, not when they were this close. Beth came back around and handed up Aaron's pack. He slung it over his shoulder as he straddled the tailgate, draping the strap of his crossbow over the other.

Aaron came up next to him, his tall, rangy silhouette easily discernible even in the dark. He cocked his head at Daryl.

"Do you think it'll be light enough that Sasha'll check the scope before she shoots us?"

Daryl clapped him on the uninjured shoulder with a grunt, his mouth curving into a smirk. "S'wha' I like 'bout you, Aaron. World fucks itself and yer still an optimist."

The other man shook his head as he fell into step beside Beth. "I'd like to think I'm being more than that, just hoping like hell not to get shot again."

That was another bet that most people likely wouldn't make, but Daryl kept the thought to himself. He glanced back over his shoulder at the blonde woman trailing a couple feet behind him. A walking long shot if ever there was one. Considering that, the smirk on his face fall away, replaced with a thoughtful expression. Maybe it was high time he started banking on her kind of odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter for you beautiful people! Thank you all for the love and support! I'm thrilled that y'all are enjoying Feral. :)


	45. Chapter 45

The sun was still a long way from rising. Beth kept one eye trained over her shoulder, watching the slick highway behind them. Water coldly slid down the back of her neck as they passed under one of the larger trees overhanging the road, slipping through the gap between her collar and her skin. The clouds were barely breaking apart by the time the gate came into view. It was hardly more than a large dark wall looming up at the end of the road, backlit by the streetlights that she knew marched down the neat sidewalks just beyond the tin.

Aaron was on her left, his rifle balanced on his good shoulder. His footsteps were as quiet as her own, which, considering his size, never ceased to surprise her. He had a presence that was hard to ignore, and yet he blended into the dark, nothing more than a large shadow, the swish of his windbreaker the only sound he made. Daryl, on the other hand, wasn't even that. From the few feet between them, she could barely make out his shape. She imagined from a distance that he was the equivalent of invisible.

The air around them was hushed, and heavy with the promise of another storm. It crackled and tasted of cold static, harsh and prickly on her tongue. Low, thick fog had rolled in, coating the ground and making her jeans cling damply to her legs. They moved around a blackened car, its tires melded to asphalt by the heat of a blaze that had long gone out. The buildings around them were empty, stained with moisture and black mold. She could smell wet wood and brick, the sharp pungency of aging, rotting carpet, and above it all was the stench of smoke and burnt flesh, strong enough to overpower the tingling, lingering scent of ozone. Beth canted her head as they approached the gate, listening for the sounds that had drifted over the walls less than a week ago. They had been easily heard even over the roar of Daryl's bike. She sucked on the inside of her cheek as the silence that had cloaked the road seemed to cover the zone as well. The quiet of peaceful sleepers and unworried dreamers.

Without warning, dirt suddenly picked up at her feet, chunks of rock and earth flying up in rapid succession. Beth's head shot up, her fingers automatically closing around the hilt of her knife as her eyes fixed on the dim outline of the tower.

Wordlessly, Daryl stepped out into the middle of the road, a flashlight already in his hand. He flicked its beam upwards, once, twice rapidly, then once again. Beth slowed her breathing and waited.

"I was just kidding about Sasha shooting us," she heard Aaron murmur softly.

Maybe it wasn't the right response, but Beth looked away long enough to glare at him, unamused. Daryl seemed to feel the same, his voice gruff and low as he growled over his shoulder.

"Why the hell have they got her up there t'start with? They ain't let her take tha' position before."

Beth felt something unpleasant churn in her belly. Something was wrong. Something was bad wrong. She could almost smell it, even over the stench that wafted from the buildings behind them. In the short week she'd been there, there'd never been a sentry on watch, much less a sniper. From the men's reactions, she doubted that there'd ever been one. Seemed like they'd worked something out for the eventuality if the signals were anything to go by. Still, it was a huge deviation from what she'd come to see as the zone's normal procedure, which in turn brought up that god _damned_ question of why.

For once, Beth could believe that it was important.

Several tense minutes passed, then the pattern was repeated from above them. Beth heard Aaron's heavy exhale next to her as she made her grip on the knife relax, then fall away completely. Her hand started to itch as soon as she let go. She clenched it tight, her nails digging into the meat of her palm as she grasped the strap of her backpack with the other.

Was it bad to wish that they were still out in the mountains?

She moved to stand near Daryl, the toe of her boot no more than a couple inches from the heel of his. He glanced at her, the subtle twitch of his brow a silent question. Her head dipped down in a quick jerk of movement, the tightness that was settling into her muscles rendering any other motion too much to bother with. The gate slid open with a shrill groan of grinding, shuddering metal. At the sound, Daryl shifted and with a roll of his shoulders, he walked forward. Beth moved with him, hooking her thumbs in her back pockets, her stride a long, easy lope. Her face fell into a watchful expression, blue eyes flitting back and forth, taking inventory as she went.

Nick was beside the gate, both hands tightly gripping his automatic rifle. His eyes were too wide, almost rolling as he stared down the road behind them as they came through. His fingers skittered over the bars before he grabbed them like he couldn't quite figure out how they worked. He was slow to shut the gate back, his features pale and drawn. Panicked, afraid, fine trembling in the muscles where he clutched at his gun.

The sheep were spooked.

Shutting the large padlock with a snap, he turned to them and nodded.

"Good to see y'all made it back," he said. "Guess you didn't have any luck?"

Daryl made a noncommittal noise as he turned to Aaron, ticking his chin in the direction up the street. "Go see yer man. Me n' Beth'll check it out."

Neither she nor Aaron had to ask what he meant. Patting Beth's shoulder with his good hand, Aaron gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning around, his broad back angling forward. He'd been hurting a lot more than he'd let on. The knowledge had guilt string tight in her belly, coiling around the unease that'd found a home in its pit.

Beth glanced back at Nick, watching how his index finger tapped restlessly along the edge of the trigger. She scowled at him, her hands coming out of her pockets to rest on her hips. He jumped at the abrupt movement, nearly dropping his gun and he fumbled to regain his grip on it. Asshole was going to get someone killed.

Exchanging a look with Daryl, they seemed to reach a silent agreement and started towards the tower in tandem. The light from the street made it easy to navigate that small field of solar panels, although they had to be mindful of the thick cables that snaked through the grass.

She hated this place.

The fierceness of the thought nearly made her start. Hate was a strong word. Her eyes fell on the road as she quietly sounded the word out, testing its weight and taste in her mouth. It fit disturbingly well, smoothing over her tongue hotly, reminding her of a dark, heated beverage that she distantly remembered enjoying. But there was a sharpness to it too, changing from the one in her shattered memory. As her lips formed its shape, she found it barbed, leaving her teeth bare and biting. She was tempted to reach a hand up and touch a finger to her mouth to check for blood.

It was only the warmth curling around the back of her palm that stopped her, Daryl's fingers brushing over her knuckles to draw her attention. Her eyes flicked back up as her head turned, meeting his quizzical stare. Slowly, she shook her head, unable to articulate the vein of her thinking. But that didn't detract from the truth of them.

The smell, the sounds...

She angled her head to look over her shoulder again. Her opinion hadn't changed. Daryl and Aaron's presences besides, it was a glorified sheep pen.

And the wolves were circling.

It was an impression that rang true, in the prickle across the back of her neck and the sudden quickening of her pulse. She knew. If it had occurred to anyone to ask, she couldn't have given them an answer, but she knew. The air around them tasted wrong, more so now than when she'd first stepped foot inside the walls. The sharp clean that had so offended her nose held another note now, a sickly, cloying scent that spoke of fear and agitation. Without seeing a soul, she could hear the town's edginess in a quiet that felt more forced than natural, as if its people were holding their breath; as if they were waiting for something.

Something was bad wrong.

Daryl felt it too. She could see it in his rolling amble, like a baleful, dark-haired hound catching a trail. She could see it in the tight set of his shoulders, in the way his head slightly angled left and right, looking for physical signs that she knew he wouldn't find, at least not right then.

The door at the base of the sniper's perch, which was actually what was left of the side of what had once been a pretty white-washed church, flung open. There was a twinge at the back of Beth's head as a woman stepped out. What parts of her face that weren't lost in shadow were set in a stony expression, the butt of a massive gun resting on her hip. Had Aaron said her name was Sasha? Was that familiar? She winced as another twinge of pain lanced through her skull. Seemed like it might be.

"You should've signaled sooner," she bit out as the two of them approached, disrupting Beth's line of thought.

Daryl snorted, unperturbed by her harsh tone. "Would've if we'd known you weren't bein' picky 'bout who you shot at." The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he kept going. "What's goin' down?"

Just like that, the fight seemed to leave her. Her features relaxed a fraction, and Beth imagined that she'd seen something like guilt or regret flash across her face. But it could have been a play of light. As soon as she saw it, it was gone, replaced with a cold, unreadable mask. The hand that wasn't bracing her rifle fisted around the brass knob to her left.

"Ask Rick."

"Why?" he asked bluntly, a note of confusion in the question.

"Just ask him."

The words reverberated with the slam of the door, leaving the two of them looking at one another uncertainly. The way she'd said it, Beth wondered then if she'd been wrong.

Maybe the wolves were already here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on familiar ground! Would y'all believe that trip was only five days long? Good grief, that was a lot going on in a short amount of time. And there's more trouble on the horizon. And more Bethyl, I promise! Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy this new chapter, and thank you for all the kudos and comments. I'm just floored (and thrilled!) by how much love and support there is out there for 'Feral'. :)


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for being so supportive and encouraging in your comments. You have no idea how much it makes my day. :)
> 
> As always, I hope y'all enjoy the new chapter. This is just a short interlude, a chance for everybody to catch their breaths. Warning, fluffiness ahead!

Daryl groaned as he fell back across the bed, letting his arm rest across his eyes. Aaron had left the door open for them, which had made Beth scowl. She'd firmly locked it behind them after knocking off their boots on the porch and leaving them in the front room.

Silently, he mulled over Sasha's hard words. They'd made him uneasy. She'd always been one to say what she meant. She didn't beat around the bush, so her firm shutdown of any further discussion on what'd been happening in the zone while they'd been gone was completely out of character. But then, she hadn't exactly been the woman he'd known for quite some time, not since Bob and Ty had been put in the ground. He reckoned he couldn't blame her for that. As big as an asshole as his brother had been, there were still days when he woke up a little lost, realizing that Merle's gruff voice would never be heard outside his head again.

Shit like that's liable to fuck with your skull six ways from Sunday.

All the same, he'd taken a lot more notice when they'd started up the street towards Aaron and Eric's house. Curtains had been drawn tightly closed, but they failed to hide the shadowed figures keeping watch, staring out towards the two people who'd silently walked up the middle of the blacktop. What were they keeping watch for? Daryl had heard Beth's derisive snort as she openly stared back at the windows, her mouth tilting down in an obvious expression of what she thought of being observed. He thought he heard her mutter 'sheep' under her breath, which had made his mouth twitch. Wasn't like it weren't pretty damn accurate.

The mattress gave a little beside him and he felt the slight weight of Beth's hip rest against his side. Her fingers slid over the sleeve of his jacket, curling around the hem and tugging. A tired protest rumbled up from his chest. Her fingers became more insistent, a low, answering sound vibrating in her throat. Resisting the need to grumble at her, he sat up and shrugged out of the filthy thing, tossing it carelessly into the far corner of the room.

"Happy?" he asked, keeping his voice low as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Christ, he was tired.

She didn't answer him. Instead, he sensed the bed shift as she crawled behind him. He heard something hit the floor beside his feet and assumed it was her sweater. Then gentle hands were smoothing across his back. As he leaned forward with his elbows propped on his thighs, Beth slid her arms around his middle. Her legs folded, her knees a soft pressure at his lower back and her breath a warm touch through his shirt where she pressed her cheek between his shoulder blades. He tensed.

"Daryl?"

She spoke his name with a soft sigh, a question and a request in the inflections, and he was again struck by just how sweet she managed to make it sound. Like it was a name that was worth something. He didn't understand it, didn't understand what it was that made her think that, but he didn't have to in order to appreciate it. He relaxed, dropping his hand and covering the backs of hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

He angled his head so that he could look back at the top of her head over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Her arms tightened a little around him. She let the silence between them stretch and he didn't feel a need to break it. There was the faintest hitch in her breathing and he could almost hear the gears trying to turn in her head, trying to find the right words to ask what she wanted to know. Trouble was, he didn't have an answer for her.

He said as much, the rough pads of his fingertips rasping back and forth over a deep knick that had scarred over near her wrist.

"Ain't got no idea wha's goin' on," he said gruffly, tipping his head forward to track with his eyes what his hands were doing. "Dunno if anythin's goin' on...but it feels that' way, don' it?"

She nodded into his back with a wordless sigh, one of her hands drifting up to spread her fingers wide over his chest. One of his followed, trailing touches that were meant to soothe rather than explore. Who he was trying to comfort, however, was up in the air. Feeling off-kilter, he kept talking, mapping out verbally what fatigue kept from clearly forming in his head.

"Somethin' happened. Nick ain't never worked with a full deck. And he's got a streak a yella 'bout a mile wide down the middle of his back, but I ain't never seen him tha' twitchy." The sound Beth made in response vibrated along his spinal column, nearly making him shiver. He continued, "Ain't known Sasha t'be tha' unwillin' t'shoot straight with somebody."

"No answers," Beth muttered into his back.

"Yeah. An after wha' we saw up in them mountains, I ain't keen on comin' back t'find we got more shit t'deal with."

She swayed a little, resituating so that she was pressed more snugly against him. "Might be different shit."

He made a choked sound that might have been a laugh. "And tha's supposed t'make me feel better?"

She lifted her head just long enough to stretch up and balance her chin on his shoulder. Tendrils of blonde tickled his skin, her words ghosting over his ear. "No. Just the truth."

"A maybe," he corrected her. "Actually more like a probably."

Beth was quiet for a long moment, catching his fingers with hers and lacing them together there, over the thrum of his heart. "A maybe hope, too." She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, making her sound muffled when she added, "Don't wanna see it again."

She didn't have to say it. He knew what she meant.

"Me neither," he grunted.

Images of limbless torsos and bone protruding from dead earth flashed in his mind and his grip tightened on her hand. Her other one slid up, then down again, a short stroke that she repeated, unknowingly driving the memory back into its dark corner and coaxing his thoughts back from their morbid bent. He felt the muscle in her jaw flex as she held in a yawn, her mouth brushing his cheek as she eased back to put her chin back on his shoulder.

"Talk to Rick in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"Sleep now?"

He nodded, his own exhaustion slamming into him with the force of a sledgehammer. He pried her hands away long enough to turn around, wrapping his arm around her waist and dragging her up the bed with him. Batting the pillows away, he lay his head down on the mattress and curled his arm around the back of her head, pulling her against him. Her scent filled his nose as he bent his head, warm and sweet as he pressed his face into her hair.

Neither of them reached for the sheets, content to lay where they were, twined around one another as close as was physically possible. Daryl blew out a quiet breath, letting himself sink into the warm softness of the mattress under him, and the woman beside him. One of her hands slipped under his arm, while the other tucked itself between them, the back of her knuckles rubbing back and forth across his chest. He closed his eyes.

For all they knew, this would be the last few hours of quiet they had for a long time once the sun rose. Sleep might be a waste of that small window of time, but if it meant having Beth this close to him for that time, and that she'd be there when he woke up...well, that wasn't so much a waste in his mind. Matter of fact, it was something that he'd pretty much gotten used to. It'd snuck up on him when he wasn't looking, this want, this... _need_ , for her. Without thinking about it, he pressed his lips against her head, cradling the back of her neck. Pretty Beth Greene with her bright blue eyes and hair like sunshine. It was the last thought he had before sleep crawled over him and pulled him into a dark that smelled like summer.


	47. Chapter 47

Beth watched the street with a slight frown. It was still fairly early in the morning, cool enough to warrant the denim jacket Eric had lent her. Most people were either just getting out the door to their designated jobs or were starting breakfast for their kids. There was a muted bustle on either side of the house, neighbors quietly going about their business, although a fair number of them shot curious glances in her direction. It made her skin crawl. Daryl and Rick had been deep in a discussion for a while, the two of them side by side on the porch steps. Their talk slipped past her ears unnoticed. At certain intervals, her head cocked in their direction, usually when a particular word or phrase caught her attention.

For the most part, though, she ignored them. Things had been happening while they'd been gone. A lot of things, actually, if how much Rick was talking was anything to go by. But this was their discussion, not hers. She'd caught the meat of it anyway. There'd been a run. People had gotten hurt. Some had died, including the asshole that'd manned the gate the first day she'd been here, and no one was sure how or why it'd happened. She couldn't say she was sorry about that, or about any of them. They weren't Daryl. They weren't Aaron or Eric. They weren't Morgan. If none of them made that list, then she didn't feel the need to muster anything more than a passing regret for the loss of life. It happened. People died...even good people. From Daryl's reaction, she thought they likely had been good people. Apparently, he wasn't the only one he thought so. There was going to be some kind of gathering that night to talk about it. Beth didn't see how that concerned them. They weren't there. What was the point of talking about it at all?

She didn't understand it.

With her back braced against a post, she was perched on the railing, one foot curled under her thigh as the other dangled over the side, the bottom of her boot skimming the shrubs that neatly marched down the side of the porch. Her fingers slowly drummed along the line of her mouth as she focused her gaze on the various passers-by, watching them with her features fixed in a thoughtlessly bland expression. But her eyes were sharp, catching the tiny movements they made, the little shifts in the way they walked, in how their gazes nervously darted towards the house, then instantly away again, fearful of getting caught staring.

She figured that was something she actually could understand. Her eyes tracked a young woman across the street, holding hands with a small boy. Her fingers visibly tightening around his tiny ones, she hurried up the sidewalk, clearly being careful not to look in their direction. Sheep trying to avoid looking at the wolf, quietly bleating to one another to keep their head down, enjoy the grass and the wind and the sunshine. Keep pretending that nothing stalked the fence.

Or worse, it was already inside, wearing their skin.

There was a touch at her shoulder and she half-turned to look into Eric's gentle eyes. He had a bottle of water in one hand, and a bowl of grits in the other.

"Can I sit with you, sunshine?"

She nodded and he settled himself against the opposite post, facing her as he balanced his breakfast on his leg. He ate quietly, silently giving her an opportunity to continue her observing without interruption. But when she looked back at the street, it was empty. She frowned, her hand slipping down from her mouth to be used as a prop for her chin, her eyes scanning up and down the sidewalk. Not a soul.

Her head angled back towards the steps behind her, catching flashes of faded angel wings as Daryl paced in front of the house.

"You wanna run tha' by me again?" she heard him growl.

Her ears pricked at the odd note in his voice. It made her twist around to peer around the post as Rick looked up at Daryl from his seat on the steps. He ran a hand through his short shorn curls, his black hat dangling between his raised knees.

"No, not really." Weariness framed the words, soaked into them like it seemed to have soaked into the sheriff's bones, his head propped by a fist against his temple and black circling his eyes.

Beth watched the way those words prickled up Daryl's back, snapping it straight as he turned to look at the man beside him, his mouth curling into a snarl before seeing what she saw- the tiredness, the resignation. It softened the stone cut of Rick's features, the hardness he chiseled into his own face that masked the real fear that Beth had smelled when he'd walked up to the house earlier that morning, a subtle, soured scent that confused her. When she'd first seen him, the day she'd followed Daryl into the woods, she'd held no doubts what he was. His eyes, even as they'd held relief and a genuine gladness at seeing her, had retained a sharpness that'd made her wary. She still was. The entire time he'd been here, she'd felt twitchy and off-balance.

He'd smiled at her when he'd first come up to the porch. He'd smiled at both of them and she didn't doubt that it was a genuine smile. It'd reached those sharp eyes, but it hadn't dulled them. The lines of his body hadn't relaxed an inch and that had fired the first warning shot in her mind long before she'd started flickering her gaze over him, assessing, weighing. This was a man that was supposed to be in charge - alpha. That first day in the zone, that's what he'd been. No tension because he knew his place and so did everyone else.

But the scales had shifted somewhere in the days they'd been gone. Something had gone wrong and looking at him now, Beth did not see the same man that'd waved them off five days before. The wolf had been swallowed by the fleece it'd been disguised with. In its place was just another sheep.

She wondered if Daryl saw it too. If he did, he was keeping it close to the chest. Her gaze switched between the two men. She didn't like this change. It made something tighten coldly in her gut. It made her think there was something in the wind that she hadn't caught yet. She liked that thought even less.

"If Noah's death is on anybody's head, it's Nick's."

Her ears pricked again, snagged at the sound of 'Noah'. Her head gave a fast, painful twinge, too quick to make her wince, but too hard for her hand not to instinctively cover the spot on the back of her head. Eric shot her a concerned look, his spoon pausing halfway to his mouth. She tried to relax, but the muscles in her face wouldn't pull right, tightening when she wanted them to loosen and she ended up grimacing anyway as everything throbbed.

_"We're not trapped…I'm going with you," she said calmly, confidently._

_"Basement's the fastest way out. Any noise and we got rotters." He licked his lips, nervous, watchful, a broom in his hand as he looks at her warily._

_She's sure, so sure, quiet. "So we won't make noise."_

_Smug, cold eyes regarding her as she buried her nose in warm, worn cotton. Her arms tighten around an all too skinny frame before she abruptly releases, moving away._

_Her steps are clicks on the bland tile, echoing, echoing as her mouth moves. Then her hands are slick, hot, hotter than anything she's ever touched._

_He's not going back, he's not ever going back. She'll make sure. Daryl'll ma-_

_BANG!_

Beth's eyes snapped open. She hadn't realized that they'd closed. Her hand jerked away from her head like her own hair was burning. She was trembling, tiny shivers racing through her muscles, making her thumb quiver as she traced the lines on her palm. Her eyes were stinging and she shakily swiped the back of her hand over them. She stared at the wet stains on her skin in confusion, her mind whirling, thoughts catching, whipping like tattered sheets in a gale. It was only with a monumental effort that she slammed them shut again, forced them back into the dark with an internal howl. Not now, not now, _not now_!

Maybe not ever. Her pulse was a rhythmic squeezing around her skull. Her breath was coming in short bursts, hitching. Waves of heat were washing over her skin, uncomfortable, tight, like her clothes. It was like being back in th-

A whimper tried to leap out of her throat, but it was trapped by the grinding of her teeth. She wanted to wrap her limbs around herself, make a ball and just breathe, force her body to sink into soft grass and cool dirt so that the hot pain would fade quicker.

She barely felt the second touch. Long cool fingers gingerly stroked her forehead. Instinctively she flinched away, her head snapping up and her eyes wide, wild. To his credit, Eric didn't back away, not even when recognition flashed over her face, but he was smart enough not to reach for her again. He held his hand up, the fingers loosely curling and his palm extended towards her.

"Easy, sunshine, it's just me," he said softly, his eyes gentle, far more trusting than she thought he should be.

Slowly, she untucked her hands from where she'd pressed them against her chest and lowered them to her lap. The redhead gave her an encouraging smile. She thought about telling him that she was alright, that he didn't need to hover like a hen over her eggs, but the words tripped over themselves on the way over her tongue, so she swallowed them back down.

The familiar scent of leather and cigarettes wafted from behind her, letting her know that Daryl had quietly slipped up onto the porch. The ragged fragments that pricked and poked in her mind smoothed over, letting her push off from them, away from the memories' edges. Without looking, she slid from her perch on the railing and stood. As soon as her boots hit the planks, his hand was in her hair, fingers closing around the pale strands and tugging her lightly in his direction. It felt good, the gentle tension enough to make the rest of it in her body slacken, let her take a deep breath again, let her heartbeat slow down enough that it wasn't pounding so painfully. She followed the wordless prompt, tipping her head back to meet his inquiring look.

Her answer was a soft hum. His eyes skimmed her face searchingly before settling on her darker ones. She knew when he saw the redness around them, the hard angles of his face shifting. His head slanted just the tiniest bit to the right, a repeat of the question and she dipped her chin almost imperceptibly in response. He let her go then and she exhaled past her lips softly.

Better.

As soon as Daryl took a step back, she saw Rick standing on the steps, one leg braced higher than the other and his gaze switching rapidly between the two of them. He settled on Beth, his expression multifaceted, but for the most part, revealing a pained sympathy. He angled his body forward like he was going to come up onto the porch but then hesitated, appeared uncertain. There was an odd flash of disappointment when he stayed where he was, nearly lost in a wave of relief that he didn't come any closer. She wondered at that, but let it go almost as quickly as she was aware of it. There were enough things in her head to sort out.

"I'm sorry, Beth," he said simply, holding his hat with both hands and she didn't doubt his sincerity, although she wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. Still, she nodded in acknowledgment.

There was a moment of uneasy silence. Daryl folded his arms across his chest and leaned his weight back against the side of the house, crossing his legs at the ankles with one boot balanced on its toe. The door behind them clicked and Beth twisted around just enough to see that Eric had gone back inside, leaving just the three of them out there.

"You goin' back out with Carol fer target practice anytime soon?" he asked, gnawing at one corner of his lip.

Rick shook his head as he put his hat back on before reaching down and adjusting his weighted belt.

"Not fer a while." He glanced up the street. "Not till things cool down around here, at any rate."

Daryl grunted in agreement. Rick nodded, the two men exchanging a long look before the sheriff turned towards Beth.

"It's good to see you out, Beth," his voice was warmer than it had been, and like before, she didn't doubt that he meant it.

She didn't reply, just lifted a hand as he turned on his heel and left, moving at an easy lope up the sidewalk. They watched him until he vanished around the corner. When she looked back at Daryl, he was rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. She moved to stand beside him and ran her fingers along the back of his other hand, brushing across the prominent knuckles. She could feel the pent-up energy rolling off him. They needed to do something.

"C'mon," she said, ticking her chin towards the house. "We can help inside."

Daryl snorted, glancing at her. "I doubt either one of 'em needs our help. Probably mess up more than we clean up."

Her mouth twitched a little.

"Maybe," she replied, leaving it at that as she turned around towards the door.

She missed how his mouth twitched a little too, quirking upwards in a slight smirk before he trailed in after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...just, wow. I don't know whether to be insanely pleased or intimidated at how much this story is taking a life of its own. It's still making me happy, so I'll go with pleased. There's going to be a lot more group interaction in the coming chapters.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for sticking with Feral, and for all the encouragement. I was feeling kinda low this weekend and reading the supportive responses you guys left for me, here and elsewhere, has just been amazingly inspiring. Thank you! And please keep leaving comments and kudos! They help so much! :)


	48. Chapter 48

He hadn't been entirely wrong. It'd only taken about an hour or so before Aaron and Eric had driven them out of the house. It was just as well. He'd been more in a roaming mood anyway, and the two of them had spent the rest of the day prowling the walls, watching, listening, but mostly just killing time until the sun started to set.

The rough bricks were digging into Daryl's shoulder, but since there wasn't anywhere to sit but right up front, it was a discomfort that he was willing to put up with. Frankly, there wasn't anyone present that didn't look uncomfortable in one way or another. Even Deanna and Reg, the chiefs in this little pow wow, sat stiffly in their lawn chairs, talking quietly, their faces tight and drawn. His eyes cut towards the opposite wall. A lot of people were huddled up together in small groups, mostly by family, keeping to themselves and watching everyone else. Hardly anyone was sitting down, clustered up along the walls, away from the fire pit that cast orange-tinged shadows and made the dark seem that much more solid.

The exception, weirdly enough, was his own family. Most of them were dispersed throughout the small courtyard, murmuring in low tones with the others or just standing silently. He spotted Carol standing next to a long low table with Jessie's kid. Sam, he thought. The boy was scrawny everywhere but in the cheeks, his face still well rounded by the baby fat he wouldn't lose for several years yet. Rick and Michonne had seemingly decided to take up posts at the gate behind him, both of them leaning back against the wall on either side. Every once in a while, they'd exchange a look, an ongoing silent conversation. Carl was bouncing Lil Asskicker on his knees, her chubby fingers wrapped around his as he spoke with that dark-haired girl he'd made friends with. Maggie and Glenn were chatting with a young family at the far end of the yard, Glenn's arm loosely wrapped around his wife's shoulders. He was sporting a busted lip and a swollen eye, but other than that, he wasn't much worse for wear. Maggie's green eyes flickered between him and Daryl's direction about every other minute. Or rather, towards the woman who was slouched against the brick just in front of him.

Beth folded her arms across her stomach loosely, her long pale fingers brushing the empty spot where her knife was supposed to be. Just from the set of her jaw, he could tell that she was still pissed that Deanna had made her relinquish it before the meeting. Not that he blamed her. The no weapons rule inside the zone was something no one in their group was thrilled about, and while all of them had found a way to subvert it, some of them more proficiently than others. Daryl glanced back at Carol, wondering how many people would just shit themselves if they knew how many knives that woman had hidden in those grandma clothes of hers. The thought made him snort softly in amusement as he looked back down at the top of Beth's blonde head. The same people would probably do the same if they knew about the combat knives she'd kept tucked away in each boot. How she'd managed to hide them from that harpy's sharp eyes, he'd never know.

There was a flash of movement in his peripheral and when he angled his head to look, he stiffened. Maggie was weaving her way towards them by herself, a determined look on her features. Daryl scowled at her. There was no way in hell he was pulling Beth off her if she tried to touch her again. If she was that damn fool, she deserved whatever the hell she got this time. Maggie's expression hardened, her chin coming up. But when her eyes slid away from him, he saw her stride falter a little. She slowed down, whatever confidence she had melting away like ice in the sun, her pretty face showing uncertainty. Daryl glanced down at Beth to see her staring impassively at her sister. Her body language wasn't threatening or defensive, although she didn't bother to hide her tension. He looked her up and down, his head canting slightly as he searched her over for what'd given a hard-headed, tough woman like Maggie pause. And then he saw it.

No recognition. There was absolutely no recognition when she looked at the brunette. Her eyes didn't light up. They were as empty as if she were looking at anyone else there. Knowing both of them as he did, it was a hard thing to see. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Maggie. He really couldn't. Beth had known him. Not immediately, but within a couple of minutes, she'd placed him, pulled a memory of him from somewhere inside the mess that'd been her head and said his name in a way that still made his heartbeat trip.

It didn't surprise him that despite the blonde's flat look, Maggie kept coming. Both of them were like a damned bulldog when they had a notion. He wondered if Beth noticed that.

Maggie finally stopped a few feet from them, out of arm's reach - a safe distance. Maybe she'd wizened up a little. Christ, he hoped so.

Her voice was soft as she addressed Daryl. "Hey."

"Hey."

Her eyes slid back to her sister, her fingers twisting around themselves as she eyed the younger woman a long moment before quietly asking, "How're you doin', Bethy?"

Beth glanced up at him questioningly, as if she needed to know whether or not she should answer. He rolled his shoulders in a half shrug. It was up to her. Tensing, she turned her head back to Maggie and nodded slowly.

"Aright," she said, a wariness in her tone that had Daryl subtly shifting a little closer to her.

Maggie's mouth opened like she was going to ask something else, but seemed to think better of it, shutting it again with a click and a slight nod of her own.

"I'm...I'm glad," she replied simply, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

She stood there a moment longer, with a look of such heart-wrenching longing that it made Daryl distinctly uncomfortable. He hadn't understood the sisters' bond before Atlanta, their closeness disturbing him more than a little. He and Merle, as much as time as they'd spent together as adults, had never had that kind of relationship. He just didn't know what to say or do that'd make it any easier on either one of them. He wished he did. He hoped that counted for something.

As it was, he could just stand there as Maggie dipped her head again and wandered back in the direction she'd come, making a beeline for her husband. The expression on Beth's face was one he couldn't read. It seemed...complicated. It was like she was thinking hard, but it was also like she was about as trusting of what'd occurred to her as she was trusting of the woman she didn't recognize as her own kin.

Hoping to distract her from where ever she'd gone, he leaned down, close enough to whisper in her ear, "How useful you think all this crap really is?"

The slight showing of her teeth as her gaze roved over the gathering was answer enough. Her fingertips drummed along the line of her forearm, the sound muted by the thick sleeve of her sweater, signaling her unease and her impatience. The constant gnawing on his lip signaled his. He scanned back over the thin crowd again, noting the faces that were missing. Tara was still recovering from her injuries in the run, out cold if the word going around was true. Eugene hadn't left her bedside for his own reasons, but Daryl was glad there was someone beside that fucker, Pete, watching her. He was absent, supposedly monitoring his patient.

He considered adding Morgan to that list briefly, but immediately dismissed him. Their friend outside the tin likely wasn't ever going to be one to include himself in the community's politics. And that's what this bullshit really was. They could paint it any way they liked, but the bottom line was that Deanna's kid had died on someone else's watch, namely Glenn's, and she was looking for someone to blame. Daryl was pretty sure that she was eying Rick for that. Well, he wanted to damn well know who she was going to hold accountable for Noah. He glanced at Nick, who was fidgeting near one of the chairs at the back. If he'd known when he left what that little shit was going to pull, he'd have throttled him before he left the gate.

Jesus H Christ, he was gone for five days and the whole fucking place imploded.

Swallowing back a growl, Daryl's gaze swung back up to the front as people started to wander towards the neat rows of fold-out chairs. He caught Beth's eye as she tilted her head up at him, an unspoken agreement to remain where they were. It'd been a damn miracle she'd agreed to come at all. With this many people, all of whom she didn't know from Adam's house cat, he was surprised that she hadn't bolted back towards the house as soon as they'd reached the gate. In all likelihood,  knowing that he was going to stick close was probably the reason she'd stayed this long. That, and the stubborn way she'd planted one boot against the wall right next to him, a physical declaration that come hell or high water, she wasn't moving unless he did.

He wouldn't have asked her to come at all if it wasn't about Rick. Hell, he hadn't wanted to come. He still didn't give a shit, one way or another, if they stayed, if they left, or if they decided to take the fuck over. He'd back any of the above, s'long as it kept their people alive and out from under an asshole's thumb. His eyes narrowed at the front. Where they fit in the scheme of things here still hadn't been entirely figured out. He watched Jessie's hand flutter around a discolored patch of skin that barely peeked out from beneath the collar of her jacket, just under her hairline. She ran her index finger along it, pulling the jacket up and tucking her chin down like she was cold. His upper lip curled.

Long as people kept out of trouble and contributed one way or another, seemed like it didn't much matter what they did.

Explained why Rick hadn't put a bullet between the son of a bitch's eyes, at least partially. Long as Tara needed him, he had an immunity of sorts. He could beat his woman as much as he liked, within reason, as long as everybody kept their mouths shut. From the way Rick'd been talking though, his wasn't the only tongue that was wagging, putting a bug or two in Deanna's ear about at least giving them separate housing.

There was a quick brush of something against the back of his knuckles. He glanced down to see Beth's hand already falling away and he relaxed a little. She was wound up tighter than he was just by being here with all these strangers, which made him think that touch had been more about comforting her than signaling him to loosen up. He wanted to thread his fingers through her hair like he had earlier that day. He didn't know why, but the last two times he'd given in to that urge, the wild look in her eyes had faded. Not caring to draw attention to them, he settled for sliding along the wall to bump her shoulder with his. The corner of her mouth quirked as she spared him a quick look, her features softening for a fraction of a second before that hard mask was back in place, her jaw setting into that stubborn line.

Which was probably a good thing, because Deanna stood up then, pulling everyone's eyes forward. She clasped her hands, but even from the back of the yard, Daryl could see their trembling.

"We're going to get started." Her gaze swept over the people seated. "What we're going to talk about tonight is the outcome of the supply run the day before yesterday." That gaze moved to the back, fixing on the two constables who stood on either side of the gate. "We're not going to talk about what happened. I think everyone here knows." There was a hitch in her voice, her eyes becoming bright in the reflection of the fire before she cleared her throat and continued. "But we are going to discuss what we can do to make sure it doesn't happen again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And a new chapter up and posted right on time! Whew! This one took me by surprise. I really hadn't intended for it to go the way it did, but I'm relatively pleased with it. Please keep the reviews coming! Next chapter things are going to start picking up again and in a way a lot of you have been asking for, namely, Beth stirring up trouble. Someone has to break up the hum drum. ;)


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early present for you lovely people, because you're all awesome and amazing! And because I was too stoked to wait until tomorrow to post it. I know there may be some questions, but please bear with me until I get the next chapter up, they'll be answered there, I promise! Enjoy, and please leave a comment or kudos if you love the story/writer! :)

Beth paid little attention to the discussion. The words being flung back and forth across the yard didn't matter much. It was much more interesting to watch people. She wondered how self-aware they were, of the little movements and expressions they made that more clearly broadcasted their line of thinking than anything they actually said. Agitated, mistrustful, scared...they reflected these emotions much more openly than they seemed to notice, bouncing them off one another so rapidly that it was puzzling to her no one had sprung up out of their chair yet. They were heavy, sharp, almost solid enough that she might have reached out and touched them if she'd had a mind to. Her mouth tilted slightly knowing that if she had reached out to anyone here, they probably would have jumped right out of their skin.

They took turns standing up slowly, speaking in a range of voices with varying degrees of surety in the suggestions they made. And every time, there was a counterpoint, a sour note among a sea of harmonic agreement that sent them back to circling ideas, and plans. Her fingers never slowed their drumming on her arm, the three-beat tempo serving as one of the few things that was keeping her anchored to the wall she'd propped herself against. She got the sense that she wasn't the only one. Everyone seemed to have a tight grip on something - their hands, other people, their chairs - anything to keep them anchored.

Slow, stupid sheep. Didn't realize there were cracks in the gate wide enough for a pack to slip through and live among them. Didn't want to be made to look outside their pretty pen and see the world for what it was. Didn't want to check under the fleece to see hot eyes of amber staring at them hungrily. Better to let the jaws close around their throats unawares than believe that the wolves could get that close.

Her glance skittered towards the other side of the courtyard, skimming across some of the people who'd remained standing. Aside from herself and Daryl, not many had. Rick was further back from them, a woman, Michonne, she thought Daryl had said, with a uniform identical to his slouched not far from his left, her arms folded. It was a deceptively lazy posture, her features fixed in a mask of boredom that belied the quick and alert way her eyes roved over the group in front of them. Abruptly, that gaze slid to meet hers. Beth held it, watching as the woman's head canted slightly, sending the long thick ropes of her hair sliding forward. The hard planes of her face softened a little, her mouth tilting for a fleeting second. But her eyes sparked in the dim light from the fire pit's embers, like two pieces of burning black coal; they sparked with a certainty and a kind of stoic quiet that made Beth's head twinge.

_Rough bandages slipping through her fingers, winding round and round. Antiseptic soaked through the cloth and made her fingers shiny._

_A voice like smoke and honey murmuring, "They should have left me there."_

_Bubbly, happy gurgles echo in the tiny cell, a sweet contrast to the bone-deep pain that goes beyond maimed muscle and marrow. A reminder, a fixed point of light to keep bright._

_It makes her want to smile, but she doesn't, respecting the ache she can see in the other woman's face._

" _When you care about someone, the hurt is kind of a part of the package."_

Her eyes dropped as she reached up to rub at the puckered patch of skin on her forehead, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth. She felt Daryl's calloused fingertip trail against the back of her other hand where it was still tucked against her stomach. Firmly, she pulled herself away from the memory that tickled her mind with the false promise of more, of hidden things that she could finally get back if she'd only linger in the dark for a few more seconds. Another lesson learned the hard way; even your own head will tell you lies.

Shaking her head slowly, she pushed off the wall with a quiet look at him. She was done. There was nothing here that was her business. Daryl had come to support Rick, but from the little she gathered from the flow of conversation, he wasn't going to be discussed. No one was willing to look him in the eye and point their fingers at him - too frightened of him baring his teeth. She almost snorted. His teeth were bullets and they were too precious to waste on anything less than a threat.

And she didn't see any here.

None worth mentioning, anyway. Some of the men clearly fancied themselves important, entitled. The way they strutted along the streets, heading to the walls for guard duty or out to the construction site Aaron and Eric discussed at supper, like a line of peacocks puffing up their feathers. They had guns and that made them feel safe enough, powerful enough, to forget what was really out there. Just docile enough to think that they only had to worry about the dead.

She and Daryl knew better. Rick knew better. Anyone that had been out there long enough knew better. But none of these people had really been out there. They hadn't seen.

Pressing her lips together into a thin line, she ticked her chin in the direction of the gate, phrasing her intention with the draw of her brows and the tip of her head. Daryl glanced towards Rick for a long moment, then shrugged, straightening from the wall with a low grunt. She turned away from him and started towards the gate, willing her thoughts to still, at least until they could either walk the walls again or go back to Aaron and Eric's house. The air was stale with anxiety, coating the inside of her mouth with a bitter taste. Her head ached and she felt jittery like she'd touched a live current. Unpleasant, pressing in. She needed out.

They were over halfway across the yard when an ugly, slurred voice called out, "Pressing business, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl went rigid beside her. There was something in the question that made her skin prickle, something nasty that she couldn't fully put her finger on. From the set of Daryl's body next to hers, her instincts were on track. She didn't have to turn around to know that every eye behind them had been turned towards their backs. The words had all but been spat, tossed at them from the dark that hovered beyond the brick-layed opening where the constables stood. There was a sharp clink, like glass being jarred against something and a slow shuffle of footsteps. Her hand had strayed to her belt, feeling the empty sheath that hung there with a scowl. At the edge of her vision, she noticed slight movements from Rick and Michonne, both of them easing away from the wall.

A tall man with lank, reddish blonde hair staggered into the soft light from the pit. He leaned his weight on his forearm where he braced it against the decorative wrought iron of the gate. A bottle dangled from the other hand. His eyes were glassy, feverish as he gestured with it, his mouth twisting weirdly.

"Why don't you...and your pretty little girl stay?" he asked, each syllable carefully enunciated. "Don't you want to hear what everyone has to say about...about my marriage?"

Some of the tension left Daryl's body and in response, Beth felt herself relax a little. Whatever the stranger's problem was, it wasn't with him, not directly. She took a step back and over, positioning herself at his back as she watched the man. Her hands trailed along the lines of her thighs, her fingers loose. More of a danger to his own body than anyone else's, but there was something in the way he was carrying himself that she didn't like. Barely tethered, eyes rolling a little in their sockets, a wildness she recognized, too hot, about to boil over, ready to lash out.

But it was impotent. A child sulking while nursing their thumb when denied. In this case, a bottle that she could smell at a distance. It was a scent that tickled at another memory.

She locked it back in its corner.

"Pete," Rick said quietly, but firmly. "Ain't you got a patient waitin' for you?"

Pete waved his hand in a sloppy arc. "She's dead to the world," he said, then snickered, clearly amused by something, although Beth had no idea what he found remotely funny. " 'Sides, this," he waved his hand again, pointing an unsteady finger at the crowd. " _This_ is much more important, don't you think?"

He moved forward into a ringing silence. Beth didn't take the chance to look behind her, slowly walking around to the other side of Daryl, the hair on the back of her neck standing up at the low warning sound he made as Pete unsteadily took a couple more steps into the courtyard. Daryl tensed again as the taller man started to walk past him. She shifted closer to him, angling the front of her body towards him and Pete's watery eyes were caught by the movement. His tongue rolled over his teeth as his gaze slid down her chest, hardly hitting the juncture of her thighs before snapping back up again in an inebriated leer. Beth felt her upper lip curling of its own volition. One good gnashing of her teeth and the bastard would wet himself, she was damn sure. Wouldn't accomplish much, but it'd damn sure make him pause.

"Pretty thing," he muttered, looking over towards the crowd as if searching someone out. His eyes narrowed as he spoke up, zeroing in on something. "Pretty young thing with all that hair." He glanced at Daryl with a lopsided sneer. "Bet you like t-"

He didn't get to finish whatever his thought was, his foot caught on one of the bricks, making him stumble into Daryl. The dark-haired man caught him instinctively, even though his dark blue eyes were screaming murder. Drunkenly, Pete shoved him away, swaying.

"Get the fuck off me!"

He took a half-hearted swing that Daryl easily sidestepped, a disgusted look on his face as he gave the drunk fool a shove in the back. Pete stumbled again and bent over, cursing.

"Isn't your business," he slurred, swiping his arm through the air like he was pushing them all away. "No one's business what I do with  _my_  wife!"

"No one's talkin' about you and Jessie, Pete," Rick countered in a much more even tone. "So why don't you go home an-"

"Fuck you!" Pete snapped, straightening up and dropping the bottle with a loud clang. "Fuck all of you!" He swung himself around, sweeping his hand out towards the rows of staring people then turned and pointed at Rick. "You...you wanna...wanna fuck something?" He spun again, his face manic and spittle flying from his mouth as he lurched towards Beth, sticking his finger out in a stabbing motion, his careful speech deteriorating into a thick, almost unintelligible garble. "Fuck her! Goddamned redneck ain't gonna mi-"

She heard Daryl growl, but that wasn't what made her move. It was the flash, the brief, brief flash of pain she caught in his eyes, his features fixed in an expression that was too hard to show it. But she saw it, thought she could feel it in her gut, cold and so, so lonely. Hurt. So much hurt in just that one look.

In a single, fluid motion, Beth'd snapped her arm out, her fingers closing around Pete's throat and using every ounce of her tiny frame to easily push the unsteady man down onto his back with a snarl. The air whooshed out of his lungs in a great gust, his hands scrabbling at her grip as she slammed him down so hard his skull bounced on the brick. Dazed and intoxicated, he couldn't stop her as she straddled his stomach, reaching into her right boot and yanking out the knife she kept there.

Before his head had fully fallen back down again, the tip was at his temple, digging into his skin, pricking a thin trickle of blood that traced the jagged line of his gaunt cheekbone. She leaned into him, pressing her body tight against his, limiting his air with her weight and the grip she had on his neck. His pulse danced under her palm, fluttering like a trapped moth. She made a throaty growl of her own, let it reverberate up from her chest as she bared her teeth.

And for a considerable length of time, no one in that yard dared to even breathe.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest chapter! Thank you all so much for all the love and support! I'm continually thrilled and amazed at how much people are enjoying Feral. Please keep leaving comments and reviews, I love readings your reactions and feedback! :)

Daryl had barely seen her move. She was a blonde blur as she swiftly put Pete on the ground, one of those wicked black knives poised at the side of his head. Her lips were curled back, exposing her canines as she growled, motherfuckin' growled, at the poor bastard under her. There was a wildness in the way she moved, with her long hair obscuring part of her face and the curling of her body over Pete's, pinning him in place like a lithe blonde cat. Drunk as he was, the damn fool knew better than to move. Her eyes were narrowed with the promise of where that knife was going if he did.

His adam's apple bobbed in his scrawny throat and Daryl could see the fine tremble of his hands where they'd locked around Beth's wrist. No one made a sound. It made the soft crackling coming from the fire pit seem loud as gunshots. He glanced at Rick, who was standing as still as everyone else, his features hard, calculating. When he looked up, Daryl carefully shook his head at him, twitching his fingers towards him in a warning to stay where he was. Rick gave him an almost imperceptible nod. A whimper pulled his eyes back to Beth and Pete as she stared down at the man beneath her.

He took a step towards them and her head snapped up, her eyes fastening on him with another growl. There was nothing human in that look. There was barely a flicker of recognition as he stared right back at her, taking another step. It was like watching hackles rise, the way her shoulders rolled up and tensed as he came closer. He didn't make any sudden movements, but he wasn't hesitant either. Any sign of aggression or fear, and she was gone. He could see it in the way she watched him, like the tiny spark of the woman that was Beth would snuff itself out in an instant if he handled this wrong. It was a fine line to walk.

Daryl crouched down, his boot next to Pete's head on the other side of the knife. She stared at him warily, the curl of her lip relaxing. He braced his hands on his knees.

"Hey," he said quietly, keeping his eyes steady on hers.

She made a low sound deep in her throat, something like a gruff hum that he figured was her way of answering him. The hand she had wrapped around the hilt of the knife tightened a fraction when he spoke again.

"Beth."

Her name was a statement and a reminder. He wasn't backing up. He wasn't going anywhere - and he gave a damn.

It was like a light switch had been clicked on, fast and harsh, and the viciousness that had sharpened her eyes faded with a series of blinks as he stared at her, still and quiet. Despite that appearance, though, his heart was slamming against his ribs like a fucking freight train. It took every ounce of patience he possessed, which admittedly wasn't much to start with, to stay put and not haul her up and away from the dozens of eyes watching them. Even if they understood it was clearly self-defense, she had a knife and if the stupid son of a bitch breathed wrong, she'd slide it home in the space of a heartbeat.

Daryl kept his gaze trained on hers, ignoring the stares. After a few more tense seconds, Beth pulled the knife away from him, tucking it back into her boot in a fluid motion. But her hand didn't relax its grip on his throat, letting him get just enough air to keep from passing out. Daryl saw his fingers twitch at her wrist and she instantly tightened her hold with another growl, shooting him a warning look. Jackass, Daryl thought with a sneer he didn't bother hiding. A doctor or not, he was drunk off his ass half the time, and that made him more of a liability than an asset. One of these days he was going to get somebody killed, Daryl was fucking sure of it. Frankly, if Beth killed him, it wasn't like she was doing the zone a huge disservice, not in his opinion.

Knowing she'd at least hold off on that unless the damn fool gave her a good enough reason, he stood up to his full height and glanced towards Rick.

"What do ya wanna do with 'em?" he asked gruffly.

Rick's stride was purposeful as he moved towards Beth and Pete, making a gesture to Michonne. "Get him home and get him sober," he answered, letting his eyes drop to Beth.

Daryl felt his shoulders tense as Beth stared up at the ex-sheriff for a long moment. Her gaze darted towards him and he nodded. Abruptly then, she released her hold on Pete's throat and easily got to her feet. The doctor wheezed dramatically, pushing himself up onto his elbows before Michonne walked up behind him and snatched him unsteadily onto his feet by the collar, clearly not giving a shit about their height difference. By the hard look on her face, her patience was pretty damn thin too.

Rick looked over the crowd, making eye contact with Jessie as she stood next to Carol and her son. He nodded to them, his features reflecting a quiet sympathy before they hardened as he turned his attention to the intoxicated doctor.

"C'mon, Pete, let's get you home," he said in a friendly drawl as he grasped the man's elbow in a grip that was anything but friendly.

Pet winced, but stayed quiet. Either Beth's chokehold had left him sore enough that mouthing off was more effort than it was worth or he'd just wizened up a little. Daryl would have bet on the former. Their footsteps echoed on the hard-baked brick as they escorted him out of the courtyard.

Daryl looked over at Beth, his fingers itching to move into her hair as he watched her drum hers along the empty sheath at her hip. He wanted to ask her if she was alright, but he knew it was a stupid question. Pete hadn't laid a hand on her. She hadn't given him the chance. But the words he'd flung at her, like hooks meant to dig into flesh and twist painfully; he hoped like hell none of them had landed.

Aware of the eyes still on them, he still crossed the small distance between them and bumped her shoulder with his, his hands stuffing themselves into the pockets of his jeans so they wouldn't reach out of their own accord. Last thing he wanted after all that crap was giving the rumor mill one more thing to gossip about. Beth didn't deserve that.

"Ready t'blow this juke joint?" he asked her gruffly, his tone lighter than he actually felt.

She looked up at him and nodded, much to his relief. The last thing he wanted to do was stand here and listen to the whole lot of them poke and prod her for answers that she wouldn't be able to give.

Deanna seemed to had a different idea though, her clear voice calling out over the crowd.

"We need to discuss this, Daryl."

He ground his teeth as he turned back towards the group, his eyes narrowing to slits. She'd just completely bypassed Beth. Wasn't even looking at her next to him. Disregarding her entirely, even after watching her put a man twice her size on his ass and keep him there. It was like being at the prison all over again, when no one could look at her as anything but something to protect, something to keep safe and away from all the ugliness, even though she'd been smack dab in the center of it for longer than any of them dared to admit. They handed her a gun, and then took it from her the instant the danger had passed. No one had wanted to see just how damn strong she was. No one wanted to think about the fact that she'd had to be. It fucking pissed him off when he'd realized it when they were on their own, because he'd been one of those people.

And it fucking pissed him off now because he wasn't. But everyone else still seemed to be.

They saw a tiny little blonde girl, probably assumed that the only reason he'd taken her on a recruitment run at all was because she needed him to keep an eye on her. Jesus H Christ, she'd shown every single one of them that she was capable of taking care of herself and with the exception of a handful, none of them wanted to fucking see it.

And even with all of that running through his head, he was still surprised as all hell when Beth took a step forward next to him and growled again.

Her fists clenched at her sides as she said, slowly and carefully, "I've got nuthin' to say." The top of her head barely came up to his chin, but she pulled every single eye to her, and she met them without flinching.

It took Deanna a minute before she could reply, an expression on her face that seemed to indicate that she was re-working something in her head and she didn't like it much.

"We all realize you were defending yourself, Beth, but we have a policy of no weapons in the zone for a reason. You have t-"

Beth cut her off with a hard, derisive snort, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at those gathered with that stubborn set to her chin. Her mouth was set in a tight line. God _damn_ if she didn't look almost exactly the same as when she was fighting, standing there with her back straight and her long pale hair catching light from the fire, like she'd been made from nothing but steel and heat. She wasn't giving an inch and if any them couldn't see that, they were fucking blind, he thought, feeling a tiny flicker of heat spark low in his belly.

His head was moving in a direction that he couldn't stop, and wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to. 

The two women held one another's gazes for several tense minutes before Beth snorted again and turned on her heel. She grabbed his hand, tugging, and Daryl followed her without a word, too damn focused on her to even protest the public contact. No one tried to stop them and that was probably a fucking good thing. It'd have been for entirely different reasons, but the asshole who tried wouldn't have likely come away from the encounter unscathed.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, guys, I am SO excited to get this one out to y'all. Easily one of my favorite chapters to write EVER! Please leave a comment, I am stoked to find out what you guys think! :D

For once, the fact that she had hardly any words for what she was feeling didn't bother her in the slightest.

Rage and adrenaline were pumping through her veins, blasting through her head and leaving little but a red-tinged throbbing in their wake. Daryl's hand was the only thing that was keeping her grounded. Otherwise, Beth'd have happily torn through every yard on their side of the street. Her jaw clenched as she marched down the line of the sidewalk, her boots scraping against its curb with a steady rasping sound that matched their hurried pace. She didn't look up to see where they were going. She kept her eyes focused on the black asphalt and the white line that ran at its edge. Eventually, Daryl shifted so that he wasn't so much being tugged along behind her as he was walking beside her.

He kept his hand in hers without protest, easily keeping stride with her. She squeezed his fingers and he rubbed his thumb along the nicks that bit into the length of hers. It may have been meant as a soothing gesture, but it did little to blunt the anger that was pushing at her, making her agitated, making her skin feel too tight on her bones. She wanted to scratch it off as much as she wanted to just keep walking until she reached the wall and carve her way through it, out into the cold dark just beyond the light of the streetlamps. But even out there, she couldn't escape people. She couldn't run far enough to be out of their line of sight, past their wide-eyed staring and bullfrog posturing.

She made a low, irritated sound in her throat. They stand there bleating helplessly, afraid of anything that reminded them of the world beyond their little pen. When one of them is clearly rabid, they choose to do absolutely nothing, to pretend that the lie they paint for themselves and hold up with flimsy tin and perfectly mowed lawns is the reality. Don't scratch the surface, children, that's where the monsters sleep. Shh, don't wake them now. Stupid sheep, happily staring at nothing and keeping their heads empty. Graze and enjoy the sun, never mind the sickness that spreads or the fox slinking among the lambs, pricking them with his fangs as he tucks them in at night. Pricks his mate too, while he's at it, pretending blood-red fur is dyed wool, nothing to be frightened of. And then, when the fleece starts to chafe and the whispers reach his ever twitching ears, and he drowns himself in the madness that curls his fists and strikes at his family, he finds that no one is the least bit perturbed when the guise is dropped.

Slow, stupid, simple-minded sheep.

Beth had waded so deeply into the black pool her thoughts were making that she didn't even notice how Daryl had quietly guided them up the front steps and onto Aaron and Eric's porch. The light outside the door was off, leaving much of it swathed in shadow. Restless and edgy, she bypassed it completely, letting Daryl's hand go as she stomped around the side of the house, her boots clunking on the white-washed boards. She went to the back steps, clomping down them and into the backyard. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as she started walking along the edge of the house, making a sharp turn at its corner and heading towards the wall.

She strode along its line, then abruptly turned back towards the house, heading for the opposite corner before starting the path anew. Up and back along this imaginary perimeter, she paced, tracing the invisible boundary over and over until her legs ached. Meanwhile, Daryl sat on the back steps, a cigarette between his lips as he watched her silently, following her with his eyes. The spark of his smoke was bright orange in the dim moonlight, casting his features in strange contrasts of light and dark. Beth was at once grateful for his presence and resentful of his silence.

More than anything, she wanted to rail into the dark, scream her frustrations so that they bounced and rattled against the tin wall, finally giving release to the powerlessness she felt closing in on her within the confines of the zone. It wasn't safe, she wanted to shout, her skin crawling over muscle and sinew. It was a trap, a lie, more dangerous than the world they were determined to keep shut out. They would tear themselves apart long before the walkers breached the gate, too trusting, too blind to one another. They basked and wallowed in the barest remnants of a world that she hardly recognized. Bits and pieces of it, familiar and yet repugnant, drifted from the fragments of her memory, beckoning, tempting, offering. And what pissed her off the most?

It hurt.

Every single time. Every single time she pushed those memories away, it left an aching, hollow feeling in her gut, cold, coveting - coveting a scrap of the tiny bits of light that she could see glimmering at the back of her mind. A light that had flickered in the eyes of the people that had been gathered at that meeting, a light that had reminded her that part of her was wrong. She hadn't been this way before. She might have been more like them.

And that scared the hell out of her.

She didn't want that to be true, but in the end, how did it really matter? She was who she was now. She couldn't go back to who she might have been. There was no point wondering about it. There was no point…

Snarling, Beth stopped next to the wall and slammed her fist into it with a sharp crack. The tin gave a little, bent under the force as pain lanced sharp and stinging through her knuckles, up her arm. There was a slickness left behind, wet and shining as she pulled it back and turned, ramming her other fist into it as hard as she could with a guttural sound that ripped out of her throat. Her eyes were stinging and she hated it. Her hands were aching, raw and inflamed, and she hated it. Her chest was tight, her breathing was ragged and she hated it. It was like she was in the hot dark again, clawing, scratching, kicking, desperate for air, for sunlight, f-

Rough hands grabbed her wrists and yanked her backward, throwing her off balance. Her heart was trying to beat out from beneath her ribs, thrumming like a harshly plucked string on a guitar. She pulled, jerking away from the comforting smell of cigarette smoke and leather, from the warmth at her back and the chapped voice that she knew was going to call her back to firm ground. But she didn't want him to. She wanted to find reprieve in the free fall that was whipping inside her, stirring up things that she'd long forgotten, memories and emotions that were gushing out like cold water from a bucket that had been sitting under the spigot for too long. If she sank back, they'd overturn, fill up the empty quiet places in her head and she'd never find them again.

No peace, no silence, just noise and heat an-

"Beth."

Soft, sweet, like her name was made of honey and bright things. Daryl called to her and she couldn't cover her ears to stop herself from hearing it, from hearing how it was made of hard edges and grass-soft places. Her name was yellow like daffodils and the sharp crack of a lightning storm in summer. Her name was blue like the color of her eyes and sun-warm pond water. She was songs with half-faded lyrics and the loops of black ink written on a tattered page. She was scarred, crisscrossed over her skin and every spare inch of her soul. Chided and cherished, she was everything and she was no one. Daughter, sister, friend, child, and woman. She lost everything she ever had and still kept walking. She was strong. She still sang. She didn't leave. She was whole.

She was Beth.

She was Beth Greene.

With a ragged gasp, her knees buckled. Her cheeks were soaked and she bit her lip to keep back a sob. She remembered. Oh God, she remembered so damned much...

"Beth!"

Someone was shaking her lightly, turning her around and wrapping her in smoky warmth. She buried her nose in it, ignoring the throbbing in her hands as she clenched her fingers around worn leather and held on. Things were whirling inside her skull, a kaleidoscope of color and sound and sensation that she could barely keep track of it all. Her cheeks flushed. It racked through her body like thunder, made her bones shudder in her skin, coated her tongue in a bittersweetness that was almost too intense to bear. Fighting to take one breath without it hitching, Beth hissed in the cold autumn through clenched teeth, beating back the insistences that she sort it all out right that second. She didn't have the capacity and it took everything she had to beat it back far enough that she could make a space just to process her own goddamned name.

Her name.

"Beth...Greene," she rasped, rolling its weight off her tongue with a exhale of relief. It sounded raw and red, but it fit in her mouth, sliding out like she had never stopped using it.

Daryl stiffened against her. She felt him tip his head down, his chin bumping against the crown of her hair.

"What?" she heard him ask gruffly.

She tilted her head back as he lifted his. She looked up into what little she could see of his face in the shadow of the wall. Her hands tightened in the leather of his vest, anchoring him there so that he wouldn't move.

"My name is Beth Greene," she said, her own voice sounding thread-bare, wavering and soft. She swallowed and said it again. "My name's Beth Greene." The corner of her mouth quirked even as the words trembled. "And I kept trackin' ya, Mr. Dixon."

He stared down at her, the dimness under the wall rendering his features unreadable, but she could feel the weight of his eyes. They glinted in the dark as he moved, bending his head down and kissing her hard enough that their teeth clacked together. Beth kissed him back fiercely, snaking her arms around his neck and pressing herself up on her tiptoes against him. His mouth was hot on hers, igniting the low simmering heat in her belly like a flick of a lighter, demanding and gratifying all at once as he backed her up a step towards the wall.

He curled his arm around her lower back while the other hand slid up into her hair and fisted there. She made a low approving sound that was like a growl, the tension that had been coiling in her body evaporating as he pulled the strands tight. His lips were moving over hers, mouthing her name every time he pulled back to catch a breath, angling her head up so he could slide his thumb down the column of her neck. Smoke was sharp on his tongue when it stroked hers, mint-tinged because of the menthols he'd been smoking, oddly sweet.

It felt like a lifetime before he finally pulled back completely, his forehead pressing against hers as they fought to catch their breath. Her instincts were screaming at her to crawl up his body and wrap her legs around him, to hell with breathing. She must have said that last part out loud because he made a noise that sounded like a snort. His hand was still in her hair, tightening a little and making her relax. Despite her instincts' demands, she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. As soon as she did, her head throbbed, making her wince.

How he caught the expression, she didn't know. Or maybe he just knew, because he told her hoarsely, "C'mon. Let's get ya cleaned up. See wha' things look like in the mornin'."

Beth wanted to argue with him. She liked how things looked now. She wanted to keep looking at them, in fact. But her body was a traitor, fatigue sneaking up from behind and making her eyelids droop. Too much had happened all at once and she was paying for it. She hardly felt him scoop her up over his shoulder, barely registering the swish of his boots over the grass before she sank into her mind's blessed quiet.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, thank you guys so much for the huge response for last chapter! I hope y'all like this chapter too, it's something many of you have been asking for more of! I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. Enjoy! :)

It was still dark out when Daryl woke up with a slight jerk. He kept his eyes closed as he listened, trying to sense what it was as he lay still and quiet on the bed. He doubted anything had actually gotten in the house. Walkers weren't smart enough to jimmy locks and as far as he knew, no one in the zone had the balls to actually sneak into someone else's house. No one was willing to risk Deanna's wrath for that kind of infraction.

The mattress shifted next to him and he relaxed as Beth rolled towards him restlessly. She snuffled sleepily, her nose bumping against his collarbone. Her fingers twitched when they burrowed under his worn plaid shirt, bumpy and oddly textured because he'd wrapped them with bandage tape. He let his eyes drift open a little. The glow from the streetlamp not far from the window filled parts of the room, although the corners were left dark. It touched her wild hair with copper where it spilled over both of them. The strands brushed against his arm where it curled around her hip and were smooth under the rough callouses of his palm where his hand rested against her back.

He threaded some of them through his fingers and she angled her head to the gentle tug he gave, responding to that touch even in sleep, pressing her lips against the hinge of his jaw. More fully awake, Daryl let his mind drift, enjoying Beth's soft warmth tucked against him. There had been a gleam of recognition in her eyes the night before that he'd wondered if he would ever see again. The way she'd looked up at him, the way her mouth had tilted slightly as she'd spoken, the way she'd sounded, it was so reminiscent of the girl he'd known before Atlanta.

How much did she remember?

He hadn't given himself a chance to ask that question, too busy being fucking ecstatic that she remembered that moment between them after they'd left the shack. Beth, his Beth, had been right there, as real and fucking solid as the ground he'd been standing on, so full of hope and wonder and sunshine that it hurt to look at her. So he'd let his eyes slam closed and tasted it instead. And God almighty, he'd been lucky he hadn't gone up in smoke.

The wildness was still there, hot and hungry like a bonfire, searing heat over his skin and licking through his veins. He'd moved her towards the wall before he could think about it, wanting to get closer, to feel her moving against him. Her name was on repeat in his head, carving itself into his bones, tracing his lips as he pressed them hard against hers. He'd said it over and over, tasting it, marveling at how it compared to the stroke of her tongue against his, warm and sweet like summer honey, cutting like a knife into his chest and making his heart jump.

Pretty little Beth Greene with eyes like cornflowers and hair made of sunshine.

The corner of Daryl's mouth lifted, and he tipped his head forward as he lifted his hand to brush through the tangled pale mane. When his fingers snagged, she whimpered softly, pushing her face deeper into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his thick digits around the strands and tugged again, making her instantly relax. Daryl stared at his hand as she sighed into his skin. He didn't think he'd ever stop finding her reaction to that gesture riveting. And probably one of the most fucking erotic things he'd ever seen.

She was just so damn responsive. He swept his thumb across the soft skin behind her ear and watching the tiny shiver chase down her body. Christ, he could do this all night, exploring her with little touches, experimenting to see what made her react, what kinds of sounds he could coax her to make with just his hands. He curled his other arm beneath her upper body and scooped her up against him, running his palm down her the column of her spine. She arched, just a little, her mouth parting against his throat. Her fingers trailed up his side under his shirt, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.

She smelled fucking amazing. He figured if heaven was even a real thing, that it had to smell like that, like summer and grass an-

"Daryl?"

Her voice was thick and soft and sweet and made his name sliding off her tongue like it was candy and it sounded so goddamned good. Daryl bit back a groan and buried his nose in her hair as his cock twitched against the fly of his jeans in response. And that problem wasn't going away anytime soon with her hands sliding around to ghost up his stomach and then flutter against his chest. Her breath was a warm puff under his ear as she tilted her head back, blinking sleepily.

"Daryl, you aright?" she asked, pulling one of her hands out from under his shirt and cupping his jaw, stroking her fingers along the scruff that peppered his chin.

He'd been thinking about her nonstop since the meeting, been half-hard since before she'd grabbed his hand. His head had been so full of her all night that there just wasn't room for anything else, but he knew that after the evening they'd had she needed to sleep, to get her head back on straight. That gesture, though, so sweet and concerned and so fucking Beth, was what broke the little resolve he had to keep the need that'd been bubbling in his gut under control.

Tugging on the hair that was still wrapped around his knuckles, he pulled her head back and caught her mouth with his hungrily. Beth didn't resist, her lips pliant and velvet soft under his as he pulled her hard against him. Her hands slowly slid down his chest, dragging a low sound of approval from him. His other hand pulled her tighter against him, his stomach giving a little jerk when the motion rolled her hips into his. He couldn't help bucking back against her, hissing in a breath through clenched teeth when he could feel her heat through the layers of denim. Fuck.

Changing hands so that he could keep at least one still tight in her hair, he reached down and gripped the back of her thigh, encouraging her to lift her leg over his. She followed his silent prompting with a soft moan, her tongue slipping along the contour of his bottom lip as her hands pulled out from beneath his shirt to wrap around his shoulders. His cock throbbed almost painfully when he felt the hard little buds of her breasts pressing against his chest. With a growl, he slid his hand up to cup her ass and rolled over onto his back. Her legs reflexively moved to straddle his hips and when she did, she ground herself against him, rubbing her center up along the seam that barely contained his erection. The pressure was a pleasurable kind of torture, the kind of pain that felt almost too damn good.

"Fuckin' hell, Beth," he swore hoarsely, tangling his fingers in her hair again and tearing his mouth from hers to nip at the slender line of her neck.

She murmured his name, her nails raking over his shirt, hard enough to hurt as she bent her head to kiss him again, her hips rocking into his with a growl of her own. Then she sat back, her hands fumbling at the buttons that ran down the center of his chest. His fell from her hair down to her hips, holding her still while he tried to catch his breath. He visibly traced the deep flush that crept up from the base of her throat up to her cheeks, starkly contrasted by the blonde strands that framed her features and swept over his forearms. Her lips were parted and swollen, and her eyes were gleaming in the dimness with a fire that made his mouth feel dry. Best fuckin' view in the whole fuckin' world.

And if he kept looking at her, he was going to cum in his pants like he was fifteen. He licked his lips as his eyes fell from her face, his thumbs stretching up to rub at the soft skin of her sides just under the hem of her shirt. He wanted to rip it over her head and see if her nipples were actually the pretty candy pink he'd always imagined them to be. The urge tugged at something low in his belly. He might cum in his pants anyway if he didn't get a grip. But by the time that occurred to him, she'd gotten his shirt open and the feel of her small hands running up from his stomach to his shoulders was enough to drive it out of his head completely.

Catching her wrist, he yanked her back down towards him, rolling them over again so that he was over her. Her hair spilled out on the sheet that covered the mattress as he nudged her legs apart with his knee. He kissed her again, holding her arms above her head. Daryl felt Beth growl against his mouth again as she bucked under him. She nipped at his lower lip and he pulled back. She stared up at him, something he couldn't identify sparking in her gaze as she undulated her body again, trying to get free.

It threw him off balance and he immediately released her, bracing his weight on his hands on either side of her shoulders, swallowing hard as he tried to yank his body back under control. He closed his eyes for a brief second, willing his pounding heart to calm down. When he opened them again, he searched her face in concern.

"Did I hurt ya?"

The look melted from her features, the feral gleam in her eyes fading a little. She shook her head as she reached for him, touching his face with the back of her knuckles. "No," she said huskily. "I'm aright."

Beth drew him back down and he went willingly. He didn't think he could stop himself again even if he wanted to. She brushed her lips against his softly. His pulse slowed some, the urgency between them dampened. The heat was still there, but it wasn't like he was standing in the heart of it anymore. When they parted, he dropped his head to her shoulder, trailing his mouth softly along the column of her throat.

"You sure?" he heard himself asking, silently pleading with any god that might be listening that she said yes. The need for her to be alright, to be with him and on the same page, just the fierce goddamned need for her was so strong his limbs were shaking with it.

She nodded, snagging the curve of his ear with her teeth gently and tugging, causing a jolt to rocket straight down to his groin. Fuck, she was going to be the death of him. Where the hell did she even learn to do that?

He decided that it wasn't a question that was all that important right then as her legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him more snugly against her. She arched her back when he found her mouth again. Goddamit, he wasn't going to last, not like this. He was too fucking wound up. Groping in the back of his head for half-forgotten memories of the last time he'd done something like this, he balanced on one hand as he trailed the other down her side. He ground his hips against her heat, catching her mouth again to muffle the sound of her moan. Fumbling, he unsnapped the button on her jeans as he held himself up, yanking the zipper down.

"Daryl."

She said his name like a plea and it drove him fucking nuts. She threw her head back with a soft gasp when he stole under the waistband, cursing profusely when his fingers encountered nothing but skin and wiry curls. Her legs were wrapped around his hips so tight that he almost couldn't maneuver, but he managed, leaving a trail of love bites on her collarbones as he slid a fingertip over slick skin, his cock pulsing as the little blood that was left in his body flooded southward. Holy _fuck_.

Beth writhed under him when he brushed against that small bundle of nerves, her shirt riding up her stomach as nails dug into his shoulders. Daryl bent his head down and traced the shape of her ribs with his tongue, tasting the salty sweet flavor of her skin. He nudged her shirt the rest of the way up with his nose as he worked his fingers over her, trailing tongue-flicked kisses up her ribcage. It proved enough of a distraction to just keep him from exploding in his pants. Although that was sorely tested when he finally felt the small curve of her breast under his mouth.

She was close, he could feel it in the clench of her muscles around his hips, in the soft, shallow pants that escaped her lips, the way her whole body shivered when he flicked his tongue over the little bud still hidden by the fabric of her shirt. He bit down lightly as he drug his finger in a tight circle between her legs. Her back bent like the string on his crossbow as he dragged a rough pad across her clit, her head falling back against the bed. She keened as her climax slammed into her and he quickly covered her mouth with his to swallow the sound. She bucked up against him, rubbing herself against his hand as she rode out the sensation, her nails scoring down his chest. It damn near sent him over with her.

Roughly, Daryl pulled his hand away from her and unzipped his fly, releasing his erection and pressing his body over hers. His cock trapped between her stomach and his, he ground himself against her with a grunt. He was so turned on it only took a couple of thrusts and he was spilling himself across his skin and hers. His hand went back to her hair and tugged, his teeth sinking into her neck as his release shuddered hotly through him, marking her. Pleasure mingled with possessiveness in a loop that felt endless.

Exhaustion followed hard on the euphoria's heels. Daryl released her skin, stroking his tongue over the bruise he'd left. She was his. She was fucking his and he was hers and no one else was ever going to see her like this, experience her like this. He could barely manage to do more than zip himself back up without collapsing on top of her. Tipping his weight to the side, he fell onto the mattress next to her. Grabbing a corner of the bed sheet under them, he swiped it over their skin before flinging it off the side of the bed. Beth pulled his arm back over her like it had been when he'd first woke up. He felt her run her hands through his hair, pushing back the sweaty strands before her lips ghosted across his temple. So fuckin' sweet. Daryl pulled her closer, wrapping his fingers in the hair at the back of her head. If she really was going to be the death of him, then this wasn't all that bad a way to go.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the wonderful, awesome comments for the last chapter! I've said it before, but it bears repeating that y'all are the absolutely best readers ever! It makes my little writer's heart flutter happily! :)
> 
> Here's the new chapter, in which a few questions are answered and we get a close look at the aftermath of Beth's breakthrough. Enjoy!

The sun was actually pleasantly warm for so early in the morning, and really for so late in the season. It was the second thing Beth noticed when she stepped off the porch. The first was the soft, sweet scent of dry grass. It mingled with the smell of damp cloth and soap that drifted up from the basket on her hip. Glancing down at the sheets untidily nestled inside, her cheeks flushed a little. Daryl made her feel wild, like when she was fighting or running. It was the same pounding of her heart, the same rush of adrenaline and heat that made her want to bare her teeth an-

She cut off that train of thought and turned towards the left side of the porch. Reminiscing wasn't going to get the laundry done. Clotheslines had been strung up between the posts at different intervals. Aaron and Eric had been lucky enough to score a working washing machine, but neither of them had been able to scavenge a dryer on their runs. It wasn't exactly a priority, but the current set up suited Beth just fine. It gave her a chance to use her hands. Something to keep her busy for a little while, maybe give her a chance to do a little sorting in her head.

She'd woken up the same way as she had before, curled into Daryl's chest and her hair an untamed mess strewn over both of them. It'd taken some quiet maneuvering, but she'd gotten out of bed without waking him up. He'd grunted when she'd slipped out from beneath the weight of his arm, but other than that hadn't stirred. His face was much more relaxed than she'd ever seen it, even in sleep. When they'd been on the move after the prison, Beth'd been convinced that he slept with one eye open, the way he'd jerk awake at the tiniest sound.

Her heart clenched in her chest hard enough to make her gasp and drop her hands from where she'd been clipping one end of the sheet. The wound at the back of her head throbbed painfully. No longer in fragments, her memories fought to flow out like a film on fast forward, swamping her skull as if to make up for lost time.

_Her face was wet as she jammed her finger down on the trigger, sobs that were drowned out by gunfire pouring out of her mouth. Rage and grief were a single, tangible thing, melding in a spray of bullets. Her sister was a dark-haired mirror, their shoulders touching as they fired indiscriminately through the fence, their father's blood hot on their cheeks in the streak of their tears._

Ruthlessly, she pushed them back, slamming them back into the dark. That was  _not_ something she wanted to relive. In fact, there were many moments she had no desire to ever live through again, moments that were both a source of joy and pain. In that respect, she sort of longed to have her mind broken into pieces again. At least then her head hadn't felt so full. Her thoughts felt like they were coated in cobwebs, memories sticking to them, pulling at them, trying to reel her back as if they had a life of their own. Maybe they did.

She reached up again and finished clipping that end of the sheet, smoothing her hand along the line as she took the two steps to reach the other end. It felt like it was pieces of someone else's life she was looking at, even though she knew that it wasn't. It'd felt that way before, to a certain extent. But then she hadn't had a way to be certain that it was her own life she'd been catching glimpses of, other than the fact that they flashed through  _her_ mind. Now...now she knew, but it somehow felt the same. Beth let out a heavy breath as she closed the clothespin over the sheet. Maybe she was still in fragments. It felt  _that_ way too - like she'd been broken apart and didn't fit back together quite right still.

Well, it wasn't like she'd expected anything as miraculous as suddenly, magically becoming whole again in the space of a few heartbeats. Nothing was as simple or easy as that. She'd gone a long time without them, had grown and changed in ways that might not have been possible if she'd still had them. Now she had to reconcile them. It was like she'd lived two lives, and now found herself in a third. She was uncomfortable in her own skin. It was a sensation she'd sort of become accustomed to since leaving Atlanta, but now there was an acuteness to it. It left her with a sense of being off-balance.

Running a hand through her hair, she let out another breath. Then she turned on her heel and went back into the house, leaving the back door open, but shutting the screen door with a quiet snap. Her footsteps were soft slaps of bare feet on the hardwood floor as she made her way back towards the room she and Daryl shared. As she passed it, she ducked her head in just long enough to see that he was still sleeping. The corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at him sprawled out on his stomach, one arm bent at an angle to serve as something to pillow his head on. It was still early yet. She'd let him sleep a little while longer.

Quietly, she padded towards the bathroom. Closing the door, she shucked her long-sleeved shirt and jeans, turning on the water. Hot droplets fell against her skin, catching her off guard and she paused, her hand still outstretched. Even though she'd taken several showers, it still felt strange, out of place. Boiling water or letting the sun warm a tub was one thing, but to have heated water fall from faucets and taps with a flick of the wrist still seemed surreal, pleasant but peculiar. She gave her arm a gentle shake and went to the sink, gathering her hair back as she bent over it and plucked up her toothbrush. Scrubbing it over her teeth and trying not to taste the overwhelming mint, she rinsed and straightened.

Her reflection, the lines of her body blurred by steam and condensation, watched her, maybe even a little curiously. Her eyes flickered over her own face, following the jagged lines of her scars. Reflexively, she touched them with her fingertips, running over the raised pink flesh. Her mind turned to the first time she'd looked in this mirror, realizing her unconscious mimicry of that moment as her hand drifted up to the perfectly round mark near her hairline. It was still her face. It was still  _her_ face. But it still belonged to someone else too. Would it always feel that way? Like she was looking at two people? Like she  _was_ two people? She lowered her arm, her fingers clenching as it dropped to her side. She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure if she wanted an answer either.

She turned and stepped into the shower, sliding the glass closed and dunking her head under the water, shutting her eyes. The hard spray was a welcome sting on her skin as she sucked in air through her mouth. She sluiced it through her hair, feeling it weigh heavily against her back and shoulders. Blindly, she grabbed a bottle on the small shelf in the corner and started combing the clean-smelling stuff through the strands, working her fingers through the knots, tugging them loose and focusing her attention on the aching pain. It took a while. There was so much hair, and it'd gone a very long time without much in the way of care. It was a relief, in a way, to focus on it, diverting her mind from the constant pull of her life before. It was still a temptation, but letting herself get lost in something physical, in the motions and movements of her own body, tempered its draw.

When she got out again, the rest of her was as pink as her scars, scoured, a bit raw, but clean. Her hair hung against her spine in a thick mass and she immediately grabbed a folded towel off the counter to scrub through it as she bent forward. Her hands busily went to work, and she sighed at how good it felt to scratch her nails over her scalp. She swung herself back upright, wrapping the damp towel around her slight frame. As she secured it, her eyes fell on the thick brush that sat next to the sink. Her head gave a twinge.

_"Beth, quit it! Yer gonna tear my hair out!"_

Beth gnawed on her lower lip with a wince, letting the memory linger like a single silken thread in the quiet that'd finally settled in her mind. It seemed to tug, but she refused to follow it to its end, floating in that single sentence with its flashes of dark brown hair, green and blue eyes watching one another, and the ghost of girlish giggles echoing in her ears.

Determinedly, she picked the brush up and held it at eye level, staring at it with a mixture of emotions, too many to really pick them out and give them a name. She traced its bristles with her eyes, studying it. How long she stared at it, she didn't know, her throat constricting and her breath hitching. She raised it up higher, her head tilting to the side. She touched it to her hair and closed her eyes. Swallowing hard, she sucked in another breath and pulled it down, feeling the strands pull and part.

It hurt.

It snagged, caught in a tangle and her eyes pricked. Slowly and carefully, she held the long, pale tresses in her other hand and worked the brush through the clump, down to the very end. The tightness in her throat spread to her chest for a second, then burst, something that she couldn't identify spreading juxtaposing warm and cold tendrils through her body, making her shudder. A sob was building, but she clamped her teeth hard to keep it from escaping. Fixing her gaze on the foggy mirror, she repeated the process, her jaw clenched at first, then gradually relaxing as she dragged the brush up, then down, over and over in a gesture that her muscles remembered. It still took effort. Tears welled up at times, for different reasons that she didn't delve too deeply into, save the occasional knot. She welcomed those. They kept her head clear.

Finally, when the air started to get a chill to it, goosebumps erupting across her body, she lowered her hands. They shook, making the brush clatter when she set it back on the counter. But her hair was smooth, flowing down her back in a damp cascade. Trembling, she reached out and swiped her palm across the mirror, leaving streaks of droplets but clearing the surface of its cloudiness. She stared at herself again searchingly. Still not whole. Cobbled a little more together, but the pieces still didn't fit right. Maybe that would change. Maybe it wouldn't. Did she want it to?

"My name's Beth Greene," she said to the mirror, trying to sound firm, but the words lacked the conviction they'd held the night before beside the wall.

My name's Beth Greene, she repeated silently. It fit, but the taste was odd. Her eyes flickered back and forth, appearing dark and troubled. Did she want to be whole again? One Beth or the other? Or neither maybe? Someone new, someone old, someone she knew or someone she didn't? She didn't really feel like she knew Beth Greene at all.

Truth be told, right then she felt like the things she did know were few and far between.


	54. Chapter 54

It wasn't a noise that woke him up this time so much as a feeling. Daryl stretched, rolling over off his stomach onto his back as he blearily blinked his eyes open. It wasn't his usual shift into wakefulness and that felt off in ways that he couldn't even begin to explain. Weird, mostly. It felt damn weird. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't woken up with a jerk. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he ran his tongue over his teeth and winced at the dry, cotton-mouth taste. Fuck, he'd slept hard.

What time was it, anyway?

He swung his legs off the side of the bed and looked at the window. Shit, the sun was already up. He twisted around to see that Beth's side of the bed was empty, the blanket cold.

Probably happy t'leave yer ass right where it was, Merle's voice growled from the back of his head. Delusional motherfucker thinkin' you got a chance with tail that sweet.

Daryl snarled internally at his brother's voice as he leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. If the sun was up, she probably was too. That was all there was to it. Unless she said something to him, he was  _not_ going to start feeling like shit about what happened between him and Beth.

He needed a damn shower. Pushing himself up, he rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm and staggered towards the bathroom. Fumbling with the door handle, he was still wiping the sleep out of his eyes when it swung inward, the light nearly blinding him.

"Shit," he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He froze when a soft voice greeted him from his left. "Mornin'."

Daryl dropped his hand with a hard blink, looking in that direction, but it was like his brain wasn't willing to make more than a couple of connections at a time as he stared.

Beth was in the bathroom. Her hair shone, freshly brushed and damp as he hung in loose waves around her shoulders. Bare shoulders. Fuck, she was mostly naked, a towel hugging her small breasts and that barely had a reach that just skimmed the tops of her thighs. She shifted and he had a sudden flashback to the night before, when those coltish legs of hers were wrapped around him, with her head flung back and her pretty pink lips rounded as sh-

 _Fuck,_ was she trying to give him a heart attack?

He tore his eyes from her, realizing abruptly that he had a death grip on the door handle. That sure as hell didn't help calm the morning problem, he groused to himself, biting the inside of his cheek. It was damn near impossible keeping his thoughts from centering on her, but after last night, there was just no way in hell.

He didn't hear the bare pads of her feet against the tile. Her cool fingers trailing along the angle of his jaw brought his eyes back up. Without thinking about it, he lifted his hand and brushed her temple with his knuckles, curling his fingers in her hair. Her head tipped back as he searched her face, his other hand coming up so that his thumb could trace the contour of the scar on her cheek. That stubborn set of her jaw he'd come to look for when he saw her wasn't present, her features softened as she gazed up at him. Her eyes were dark with emotion, many of them he couldn't identify. But the way they were just a little glassy, the way they shone just a little too keenly...well, that was cause enough to set his wayward thoughts to the side.

"S'matter?" he asked her gruffly, his brow furrowing as her breathing hitched just a little at the question. He felt his stomach drop at the sound.

Shit.

His hand tightened in her hair and she met his gaze, letting out a soft breath. She didn't respond right away, her eyes dropping away from his as she suddenly pressed herself closer, her arms snaking around his waist. He automatically slid his around her upper back as her fingers curled around handfuls of his shirt, bunching it in her hands. Her hair smelled clean and warm, tickling his collarbone where the top of her head came just under his chin. As she settled against him, some of the tension in his body bled away. Well, if she regretted last night, she'd be moving away from him, not towards, right?

He could hear Merle snort, but he ignored it in favor of running his hand along the fine line of her shoulders, drowning out his brother's derision with smooth skin and the soft brush of her long pale hair. With a quiet groan, he dropped his head so that he could bury his face in the strands covering her ear. Christ, he was whipped and the woman hadn't even asked anything of him yet. She never asked. Probably why he was whipped to start with. All she had to do was curve her lips and he'd fucking skip into a horde of walkers for her. Not that he was going to admit it out loud. Hell, he had a hard enough time admitting it to himself. Maybe she knew. He figured he didn't mind too much if she did. He figured that if anyone was gonna have that kinda hold on him, he didn't mind if it was her. Because when she  _did_ smile, it was honest. Even when she didn't understand them, she wore her emotions as clear as fucking day, if anyone cared to actually look for them. She didn't hide what she was thinking or feeling. Never had. Frankly, he didn't think she  _could._

And even knowing that, he wasn't entirely sure he understood the things he could see in her. The way she looked at him, the way she said his name; like he wasn't redneck trailer trash. Like he was something good and warm and worth something. She made him actually feel like he was more than just being muscle or another pair of hands, more than where he came from and the things he could do. She cared about him and it was so clear that sometimes it scared him. He wondered if could live up to what she saw, wondered if it was even something that was real. He didn't understand it, couldn't fathom the reason why, but he'd been saying a quiet prayer of thanks every fucking day that she was there to give a damn.

Daryl angled his head, tilting it forward so he could see her from over the crown of her hair. If it wasn't him that was bugging her, then it was something else.

"You ain't gotta tell me," he said.

His tone was rough but his hands weren't as they ran across her back and threaded through her hair, not in a big hurry for her to move. He liked where she was. If all she wanted him for right then was something to lean against while she sorted it out in her own head, he was fine with that. Beth stayed quiet, nuzzling her cheek into his chest and he shifted so that his back was up against the wall. She followed his movements, re-settling herself, her legs standing between his and her arms still around him, pressing herself tightly into him.

Whipped's right, Merle's voice sneered. Made ya a fuckin' pussy's what she did. Goddamned teddy bear fer a lil girl still wet behind the ears.

Fuck off, Daryl growled back, mentally shoving his brother's phantom away. Beth starting to speak helped with that too, and he focused on the halting words that tripped out of her mouth.

"I...I'm not sure what I'm supposed t'be, Daryl," she admitted softly, her shoulders lifting in an odd kind of shrug before stilling. A long pause stretched out before she continued, her speech slow as if she was groping for a way to put what she was thinking into words. "Who I was, what I am. I don't know how t'make the pieces fit."

He snorted at the shower stall across the room. "Do ya gotta make 'em fit?" She pulled back from him slightly with a frown. He ran his hand down the length of her hair, letting his gaze fall to the blonde strands he wound around his fingers. He changed the subject a little. "You remember tha' night in the shack?" She nodded and he was quiet for a long minute before asking, "You remember what ya told me?"

He watched her face as her eyes grew distant, not answering. He waited, probably the most patient he'd ever been, idly twisting the ends of her hair around his fingers and tugging lightly. Her head canted as her gaze seemed to snap with something, coming back to the present hard. Her lips curved slightly, just the tiniest of smiles. He reckoned even that could melt stone. When she stood up on her tiptoes and brushed that smile against his mouth, her arms fluidly moving up to twine around his neck, he reckoned that anything having to do with those lips would manage it. He tightened his arm around her upper back, pulling her closer as he slanted his mouth over hers. His heart thumped hard in his chest. She was hot honey and sunshine in summer, soft and warm and just so fucking  _good_.

When she rocked back on her heels, Daryl let his eyes drift back open lazily, staring down at her with a hooded look. The heat in his veins cooled a little to see that even though she seemed less upset, there was still something in her features that was troubled. He started to ask her about it, but her fingers carding through his hair and giving a firm tug that he felt all the way down to his toes stopped him. Jesus, he didn't even know that was a trigger until she did it again and it coaxed a low sound from his throat, pulling her back towards him hard.

"Keep tha' up and yer gonna find yerself needin' another shower," he promised her huskily.

Beth's expression was almost playful, the uneasiness leaving her features for the moment. She leaned into him again, her nails dragging lightly along the back of his neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps down his spine. Her cheeks flushed as her lower lip disappeared, staring up at him with a look that suddenly bordered on shy. Daryl's hand moved of its own accord, dropping from her hair to press against her mouth, plucking the soft pink flesh from between her teeth, wet and glistening. The urge to lean down and catch that little piece of temptation was damn near overwhelming. She was in his system, her taste like a goddamned drug that he couldn't kick and didn't want to. Her eyes were wide and dark, hinting at the fierceness that he'd seen last night. He felt himself start to stiffen as the memories chased themselves through his mind, setting his imagination on fire about what he could do with all that wild sweetness. Images of her naked and wet in the stall, rivulets running down all that pretty skin, were dancing in his head, making his cock throb painfully in his jeans as his pulse sped up.

Fuck it, he was going to give _himself_ a heart attack at this rate.

The sound a door closing loudly startled both of them.

Daryl slid his hands down to her shoulders and quickly turned her around. "Go on," he told her, his voice hoarser than he would have liked as he gave her a firm tap on her bottom, resisting the impulse to cup the small curve that he could feel fit perfectly against his palm. There was no way in hell he was getting caught by that curly-haired bastard this morning. "I ain't in the mood t'be listenin' to Aaron's smartass comments."

He ushered her out of the bathroom, scooping up her clothes and shoving them into her arms as she went. He ignored the way Beth laughed softly and how it tugged at something in his chest. Shower, he thought as he locked the door behind her. And it better be fucking ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this update's a bit late, guys. My baby brother's birthday was this week and I took a small break to spend a couple days with him. This chapter gave me a fit, I'm not going to lie. I'm still not 100% satisfied with it. I may come back and do some editing. Still, I hope y'all enjoy it. Feedback would be greatly appreciated! :)


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all the wonderful feedback and comments for the last chapter, it really did make me feel better about it! I hope y'all enjoy this one as well. It's a bit of an interlude, which features a return of one of my favorite couples, aside from Beth and Daryl, naturally. ;)

Eric and Aaron were already working on their breakfast by the time Beth came into the kitchen, dressed in a thin blue sweater and jeans. The smaller ginger beamed at her, elbow deep in steaming soapy water.

"Good morning, sunshine," he chirped, his eyes sparkling with good humor. Her lips twitched upwards as she looked at him. It was automatic. The man could just pull a smile out of her.

Aaron snorted from the other side of the bar, using his good hand to position two bowls of oatmeal on the granite countertop. "He's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. If it's too cheerful, ignore him, he'll dial it down."

"You love how cheerful I am in the morning," Eric replied over his shoulder, sounding completely confident.

"I do, but not everyone else does."

The slim man made a clicking noise with his tongue and shook his head lightly. Beth tuned out their banter as she moved to the sink and pulled a dish towel down from the rack on the cabinet. Picking up the plate closest to her, she swiped the edge of the cloth over it, clearing away the thin rivulets of water that were still clinging to its surface. As she quietly worked, the men continued the conversation, Eric now facing Aaron across the bar with his hands on his hips, soaking part of his apron.

"All I'm saying's that you could stand to be a little more bubbly in the AM. _"_

Aaron looked at his boyfriend, his head propped up by the loose fist that rested against his temple. The bowl sat untouched in front of him as it cooled. The homemade sling that he'd used had been replaced with a proper one, starkly white against the red and blue plaid shirt he wore. He had a small smile.

"And all I'm saying is that if I was as bubbly as you, we'd never need soap again. Between the two of us, we could wash every dish in Alexandria with the power of personality alone," he said dryly.

Eric threw his hands up. "You're impossible."

"And you love me for it," came the playful rejoinder, quiet and sure.

Eric hummed noncommittally as he reached around his back and untied his apron, tossing it over the back of a chair as he came around one side of the island. He leaned over and firmly kissed Aaron, his hand cupping the other man's jaw before walking behind him and taking a seat on the other side. Beth kept her amusement to herself, silently enjoying their play fighting as she put the last bit of silverware in the appropriate drawer. Sliding it shut, she hung the towel back up to dry out. As she turned around, Daryl walked through the wide archway, his hair still damply framing his face. He brushed his shoulder against hers when he passed her on the way to the fridge.

"You eat yet?" he asked, glancing at her.

She shook her head and he grunted, pulling a plastic container out and tossing it onto the counter. With a hand on her hip, he edged her away from the cabinets so he could reach down and open the door, retrieving a skillet. He opened the container and a spicy, sharp scent wafted up from the sausage that was inside. Her stomach rumbled, drawing a low sound that might have been laughter from Daryl, his lips quirking up as he looked at her. Rubbing her belly, Beth hopped back so that she was sitting on the counter, the sink at her hip and the upper cabinets at her back. She crossed her legs at the ankles, her heels bouncing against the lower wooden doors.

Daryl flipped on the burner, sliding a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and tapping one out. With a flicker of the lighter, he lit it with a small curl of smoke. Holding a fork in the other hand, he ticked his chin towards her, shifting the cigarette to the corner of his mouth.

"How you want 'em?" Beth shrugged, tugging her hair over her shoulders and threading her fingers through it. He grunted again, upending the container over the skillet. "Fine, but the first belly ache outta you 'bout how it tastes and yer gonna be cookin' 'em yerself."

There was an undercurrent in the gruffness, a note that acted as a counterpoint to the harsh way he talked. It recalled how he'd spoken to her in the bathroom, a quiet warmth suffusing his voice that brought to mind what he'd asked her to remember.

_You gotta stay who you are, not who you were._

It'd made her feel better, to hear him say that, but it hadn't driven the troubling question of who Beth Greene was entirely from her mind. It was a question that she still didn't know how to rightly answer, or even wrongly answer, really. She could remember the ideals and values that she'd been raised with. She could identify them, define them, point them out to anyone who asked and tell them what it was that made them what they were. But what meaning did they have in her life now? It was a consideration that she felt deserved to be weighed another day. Tired of allowing her thoughts to spin through her head, and the headache that only seemed to follow, she batted them away and instead focused on the strands she was combing her hands through. Her fingers seemed to remember better some of her older habits, a long, sinuous braid already formed between her fingers.

The sausage sizzled and popped in the pan as she started weaving a second, this time allowing her attention to narrow on the task. Aaron and Eric were talking across the kitchen, having an animated discussion. At least, Eric was animated, his hands gesticulating wildly while his boyfriend mostly just watched him, fondness and affection mingling in his features, occasionally encouraging the red-haired man to eat with a motion of his spoon. Beth let her eyes drift back towards Daryl, watching as he flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette into the sink. He caught her gaze, the smell of smoke mingling with hot grease from the skillet. His eyes were sharp, but warm in the way he watched her for a minute before glancing back down at the stove. She liked how they seemed to deepen to a darker shade of blue when he looked at her sometimes. Such a completely different color from her own, brighter ones.

"You could have said  _something_!" Eric's voice rang out, pulling her attention away from him and back towards the two men sitting at the bar.

Aaron smirked as Eric gripped his uninjured shoulder with a reproachful scowl. "What, and ruin the surprise?"

"You know, that wasn't funny the first time you said it, and it isn't funny now."

"I thought it was funny."

"You would."

"Keep it down," Daryl groused, his voice sounding muffled as he kept his cigarette clenched between his lips. "Yer lover's tiff is gonna make our breakfast taste bad."

Eric's response was quick and playful. "Well, it's not like the way you cook it is going to make it taste better."

Beth bit her lip at the way Daryl's ears tinged with red from under his hair, his shoulders hunching a little as he flipped the pieces of sausage over, browning the other side.

"Better than some of tha' crap you try t'pass fer food."

"Says the outdoor cat that'll eat just about anything." Eric's eyes twinkled. "Even  _my_ spaghetti."

Daryl hunched further over the stove, grumbling incoherently, clearly unable to make a retort as he pulled the skillet off the eye and drained the grease. Beth leaned over so he could open the cabinet behind her and pull down a plate. Immediately, she snatched one of the pieces up and popped it into her mouth, chewing fast to avoid getting burned.

But Eric was merciless, a grin splitting his face as he cupped his chin in his palms, asking innocently, "What's the matter? A little blonde kitten got your tongue?"

Beth's choked at the stricken look on Daryl's face, coughing down the sausage as he moved to thump her back hard, his features now as red as his ears. Rubbing his hand between her shoulder blades as she gulped down a glass of water, he glared at the two men.

"You just couldn't keep yer big mouth shut, could ya?" he asked Aaron.

The curly-haired man's expression was entirely too guileless to be real, Beth decided as she lifted her head.

"Well, according to you, there's nothing for me to keep my big mouth shut about."

"Shit," Daryl swore.

Eric exchanged a false, sympathetic look with his lover, shaking his head slowly. "I thought we'd taught him better language than that."

"Obviously the lessons didn't take."

"We're still here, douche bags," Daryl growled at them, taking the glass of water from Beth and setting it in the sink.

Aaron mirrored Eric with a long-suffering glance. "Obviously."

Seeking to comfort him, Beth leaned over so that the length of her arm bumped into Daryl's chest. She tilted her head up and brushed her mouth against the underside of his chin. His head jerked down to look at her with a frown.

"Quit lookin' like tha'," she said softly. "Yer just makin' it more fun for 'em."

That didn't seem to make him any happier about the teasing. He still grumbled, but he at least he stopped glaring. She thought she understood his discomfort. Aaron and Eric didn't mean any harm, but it brought attention to the fact that neither of them had chosen to define the relationship they had, nor were they in much of a hurry to. Even knowing that the two men were comfortable with that, and wouldn't put pressure on them to have answers they weren't ready to give, it was still something of a reminder that others might not have such a positive reaction.

How were they supposed to explain what their relationship was to other people when they weren't entirely sure themselves?

She didn't know, and truth be told, she wasn't looking forward to the moment when that inevitably happened. And it would. She'd never really been able to hide what she felt and she knew that some of the more perceptive people in the community would look at the way the two of them interacted with one another and wonder if she and Daryl were much closer than just friends, even close friends. Some might even disapprove and while she felt that their business didn't include what she and Daryl did or did not do behind closed doors, others might not see it that way. She wasn't naive enough to believe that wouldn't be the case. But it did make her uncomfortable. Just thinking about it made her want to volunteer for more time outside the walls. She had a feeling that Daryl would be right behind her. It was a discussion, though, that they likely would need to have at some point.

For the moment, however, she put it out of her mind with the other things she wasn't willing to spend any more time thinking about that day. Instead, she focused on the easy conversation that flowed between the three men, watching them with a warmth she had never known except in the long gone days when she was a child, bouncing on her father's knee and her sibling's laughter ringing through a kitchen much like this one.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being late with another update, guys. I've got a lot on my plate right now and I'm trying to sort some things out. Hopefully, though, things are going to get back on track and I should be back to regular updates. Thank y'all for your patience and continued support, you don't know how much I appreciate it. :)

He really wanted another cigarette.

Over the course of the morning, the four of them had migrated out onto the back porch, Eric and Beth working on taking down the sheet that'd dried and hanging up several lines of clothes. Aaron was nose deep in a book at the small deck table, using one hand awkwardly to keep it open on his knee. Daryl kept an eye on him, glancing over occasionally from across the table as he sliced the large chunk of deer meat Jessie had dropped off for them. It was their weekly allotment, which meant that Eric would probably be getting creative in the kitchen again. God help them.

As he glanced up again, Aaron caught his eye, a tiny smirk playing around his lips and Daryl scowled at him, lowering his eyes to the knife sliding rhythmically over a wooden block he used for a cutting board. Smug bastard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark-clothed figure silently turn around the corner of the house. Pulling the knife out of the meat, he angled his head to get a better look, recognizing Michonne in her rolling lope. Woman walked like a damn cat; no matter what she was wearing, she never made a sound. It could be fucking unnerving on a run.

She climbed partway up the steps, leaning her shoulder against a post as she ticked her chin in Daryl's direction.

"Hey."

"Hey," he said, watching her nod to Aaron.

Michonne didn't waste words, tipping her head back towards the wall. "Morgan stopped me and Rick outside the wall on patrol. He's asking for you and Beth. Says he's got somethin' he wants to show us."

He saw Beth set down the basket she'd been holding against her hip, looking at him questioningly. Daryl frowned as he glanced back towards the dark-haired swords-woman.

"He say what for?"

"No," she answered shortly, reaching around her back and pulling out the bolts that Olivia kept in the weapons lock-up. She held them out to him as she pushed off the post, her tone dry. "But we can figure it's important if he's wanderin' outside of butterfly net territory."

Daryl snorted. He'd heard the story from Carl about what they'd found when they'd went back. Seeing the man up close, he'd been inclined to believe it. He set the knife down completely, moving towards the back door. Reaching just inside, he picked up his crossbow from where it was leaning against the wall. He slung it over his shoulder, turning on his heel and taking the bolts from Michonne's hand. Bunch a dumbasses, thinking that a crossbow was like a gun; take the bullets away and you ain't got much. Nobody much figured how fairly damn heavy it was, much less that he could make new ones out of any good, light wood.

Beth slipped past Eric, her hand brushing against his shoulder reassuringly when he gave her a concerned look. Michonne also pulled out Beth's knives, the one he carried and the one she now used. She handed the blades to them before abruptly turning and taking off back down the steps with a long stride. Beth tipped her head back to meet his eyes, canting her head slightly as she moved to follow. He shrugged in answer, nudging the back of her boot with the toe of his. If she didn't know what Morgan wanted, hell if he did.

The street was fairly empty this time of day. Most people were prepping their stores for the winter. It was on its way too. The sun was unusually warm that day, but there was an unmistakable bite to the wind, harsh gusts occasionally blowing down from the north and sweeping through the walls. There was a crispness in the air that only seemed to grow sharper, every breath bringing with it a quick sting of cold. It wouldn't be long before the frost started to set in.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beth rolling her fingers over the hilt of her knife, tracing along the smooth metal down to the leather sheath. Her wide blue eyes were narrowed as her gaze swept both sides of the street. The odd discomfort from that morning evaporated, replaced with the cat-like fluidity he'd grown accustomed to seeing when they were in the mountains. She moved like she was expecting a fight, her posture deceptively relaxed even as her hand drummed along the line of her thigh.

Rick was standing at the gate, his arms folded and his back against the wall, staring stoically at the man across from him. Nick's gaze flickered between the constable and the three people approaching up the street.

"He still out there?" Michonne asked quietly, coming to stand next to Rick, her jacket brushing against the sleeve of his.

Rick's drawl was slow and soft as he switched his stare to out beyond the second barred gate. "Yeah. Ain't moved s'far as I know."

"Reckon you don't know what he wants neither," Daryl said gruffly, adjusting his grip on the strap of his crossbow.

Rick shrugged, the windbreaker tightening across his broad shoulders. "Figured he's seen somethin' out there. Ain't nobody 'round t'hear nuthin' from."

"Goes without sayin'," he muttered.

Not responding to the other man's response, Rick straightened with an almost imperceptible nod towards Nick. His adam's apple bobbed noticeably as Beth breezed past him. When his eyes landed on her, his grip on his rifle flexed, his finger tightening its grip where it clung just above the trigger. Daryl felt a tug at the corner of his mouth as he looked at the petite woman beside him, her own lips curving in a tiny knowing smirk. Poor fucker looked like he was gonna shit himself. Hell, probably more than half the town was ready to shit themselves after the way she handled Pete last night.

Eric and Aaron hadn't looked at her any different, and he hoped to Christ that eased some of the trouble he knew was lurking somewhere under all those blonde waves. She'd tucked it out of the way, her jaw setting and her eyes sharpening, the barely hidden edge of wildness flooding to the surface. It was in the way she paced out of the gate, subtly alert as she walked. Her hand dropped completely from her hip, loose and only slightly curled at her side as they headed for the woods. The treeline stood tall on the other side of overgrown field, stretching behind the burnout houses and framing the western side of the zone.

Daryl recognized the direction they were going, anticipating the dilapidated white house, the surrounding area piled high with assorted bits and pieces of old machinery and just plain junk. Morgan stood in the center of one particularly massive pile, his head cocked exaggeratedly and his hands clasped in front of his chest in a strange gesture that could have been interpreted as either piety or anxiousness.

But that was if the person that was looking at him didn't know any better. Daryl sure as hell knew better. Knew for a fact that Morgan might be a crazy son of a bitch, but he liked people to think he was a damn sight more of a fool than he really was. Yeah, he'd heard the story. Knew that the man liked to put other people off-balance, felt that it increased his odds. Which made him wonder what had made him decide to travel with Beth in the first place. Trusting someone, even someone as capable and fucking good as Beth, took a shit ton more faith than Daryl thought the older man had to give anymore.

He spoke without turning around. "Y'all came alone."

Rick answered, apparently unruffled by the flat-toned assertion. "Yeah. Ain't nobody followin' us."

Morgan snorted, staring into the trees behind the house. "'Course not. Beth would'a killed 'em if there were."

He was so matter of fact in the way he said it, as if he were talking about something absolutely mundane, but Rick was clearly still a little aback. He glanced back at Beth, who stood stoically beside Daryl, her eyes drifting over the clearing lazily, appearing not to pay attention to a word that was being said. He found himself wondering how disconcerting the changes in her had to be to people like Rick who'd known her before. He'd seen the effect it had on others, like Maggie, who just didn't know how to handle it.

If it really bothered the ex-sheriff, though, he hid it fairly well, his eyes sliding away towards the man who'd perched himself on top of the heap of trash and debris.

"You said you found somethin' we needed t'see."

It was a leading statement that was almost a question, and with its prompting, Morgan finally turned his head to look at them, his feverish, glassy eyes roving over the four of them with a palpable disinterest.

"Yes," he said simply, his gaze lingering on Beth for a long moment.

When Daryl looked, she was staring back at the other man, a matching expression on her face as if the two of them were talking on a completely different level than the rest of them. He reckoned that they were. As long as they'd been out there on their own, with Beth unable to speak and Morgan clearly not the talkative type, it wouldn't have surprised him. What did was how much he minded that fact. And he knew it made no fucking sense, which just pissed him off more. Guilt was a familiar weight in his gut and it swirled with something else, something hot and slithering that bugged the hell out of him.

Shuffling his feet, he kicked at a pine cone and jerked his head in the direction of the woods impatiently. "C'mon, we ain't got all damn day."

He could feel the way Beth frowned at him, but he wasn't looking at her, his eyes narrowed on Morgan as he worked his way back over the trash onto the ground on light feet. Without a word, he started to walk behind the house, clearly expecting the rest of them to fall in behind him. It made Daryl grind his teeth in irritation as he swung his crossbow off his shoulder and settled it in his grip.

It wasn't more than a few steps behind the house, the walker flat on its back with its arms and legs outstretched. Badly decomposed, its flesh withered and sagging off the bone, the body had been dead for a long time. Might have even been one of the first walkers, if the stench was anything to go by, Jesus. Morgan stopped a few feet from it, but Daryl and Rick stepped around him towards the thing, both of them mindful to keep an eye on the trees. Where there was one, there was usually more.

Daryl crouched down next to it, his eyes scanning up and down the prone figure for anything out of the ordinary, or better, something useful to scavenge. Several holes riddled its clothing where some unlucky pricks had filled its belly full of lead, either not knowing or not caring that the thing wasn't going down with anything less than a headshot. His eyes flickered over the side of its face, noting the fresh looking knife-wound just above its eye, just next to another one. The second hadn't done much more than pierce the skin, a single, clean slice. His brow furrowed. That was fucking weird.

"Rick?" he murmured, pointing as his eyes flowed over the thing's forehead, trying to make sense of the cut.

That was when he noticed that there was more than one, all of them shallow. In life, it would have left a scar, but on a walking corpse, they had just been slender, open wounds. Daryl tilted his head as he stood up and stepped over it, trying to get his eyes to make sense of what he was seeing.

Then it clicked. Christ, he wanted that damn cigarette.

"What the flying fuck?"


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! And on time, woot! Thank you guys so much for the lovely comments last chapter. Please keep them coming! :)

The corpse held little interest to Beth as she and Michonne kept a quiet watch near the corner of the house. The men stood over it, talking in low tones that still carried and she only paid a minimal amount of attention, keeping the majority of her focus on listening to any sounds coming from the trees.

"Tha' what I think it is?" she heard Rick mutter.

"Looks like it, yeah," Daryl grunted, apprehension clear in the way he spoke. "Big damn W carved in the middle of the fucker's forehead."

"Who'd do somethin' like tha'?" Rick mused. She saw him straighten from his hunched position over the body. "What the hell'd be the point?"

"Dunno," Daryl answered him, shrugging. He lifted his head to look up at Morgan. "You see anymore like this?"

"Yes," the older man said simply, his hands loose at his sides as he stared at the walker.

Rick angled his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why didn't you say somethin' sooner? Shit like this, we need t'know about."

Morgan looked up then, his expression unperturbed. "Because one is an anomaly. There's no reason to make a fuss over one. But two is a pattern. Tha's' a bigger cause for concern that a lone walker with a letter carved into it, isn't it?"

Beth didn't say it out loud, but she was inclined to agree. A single instance was hardly reason enough to raise an alarm. But if Morgan had found more than just this one, that had implications. This walker looked old, maybe even one of the first to reanimate. It was unlikely that he'd carved that letter into his own forehead before death. She could have told that from just his wounds, though. The lines of the cuts were still sharp, like splits in the skin. No bruising, no sign of healing, two major signs her daddy had taught her to look for in animals whose cause of death was difficult to determine.

The thought brought with it an ache that bloomed hot and sharp in her chest. It stung her eyes and she swallowed hard. Taking a deep breath, she folded that feeling away as best she could. She'd grieved. Nothing would come of dwelling on it. In silence, she welcomed the cold wind that wafted from the west, delving into the sensation of its chilled fingers sweeping over her heated face. Once again, she retreated into what she could experience with her senses, shutting out the memories that still called to her. Beth let her eyes drift closed for a long moment, concentrating on the feel of worn leather under her hand, the taste of pine and coming frost.

When she opened them again, the stillness had resettled in her head, like the last ripple reaching the shore of a pond. She didn't linger on the feeling of relief, instead returning her attention to the woods. Michonne's dark eyes were heavy on her, the swords woman's dreadlocks swishing against her shoulder as she angled her head. Beth glanced over, raising her brows in question.

Michonne took a step towards her, her gaze drifting back to the woods. "Did you get them back last night?"

Beth whipped her head towards her, startled at the perceptive inquiry. Her brows drew together as she opened her mouth to reply, only to quickly shut it again. If the other woman was amused by her reaction, she didn't show it, her features set in the same, impassive expression. However, she did answer Beth's unspoken question, her voice soft and steady.

"You don't look like you did." She touched a finger beneath her eye. "More of you is in there now, like it used to be."

The younger woman didn't know what to say to that. So she just nodded, the easiest answer to give. Michonne didn't seem interested in any further conversation, her expression softening as she dipped her head too, her single acknowledgement of the gesture before she turned her head fully back towards the woods. Beth followed suit, feeling unsure. She wasn't willing to talk about what she'd remembered yet, not with anyone but Daryl. Aside from Eric and Aaron, he was the only person who looked at her without judgement, as if she was something that needed protecting. He watched her back, but he'd never assumed she couldn't look after herself.

The sound of his voice pricked her ears, pulling her eyes in his direction. "You reckon somebody's markin' property? Like a cattle brand?"

Rick made a low sound. "Maybe. Can't figure why. What'd they want with walkers?" He half-turned towards Daryl. "Puttin' 'em in houses like y'all saw?"

"Eh, could be. Those walkers didn't have marks on 'em, though, not like this." He ran his hand through his hair. "Christ, I need a cigarette."

Rick rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Can't hurt t'extend patrols a bit, put a couple more people in the bird's eye with rifles. Might find out who's doin' this. Get some answers."

"Might," Daryl agreed, standing next to Morgan with his crossbow in hand. "Me n' Beth can make a couple runs in the next few days, see if anyone's been messin' 'round in the area. We ain't got no clue how far these walkers can range."

Rick nodded. "Fair enough. We'll get some other teams out too, figure out how immediate the threat is, if it's there."

Daryl scuffed the toe of his boot against the body. "Anybody carvin' up walkers ain't the friendly type."

"Probably not." Rick looked towards Morgan, who'd been standing quietly. "You see anythin' else, Morgan?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," he replied, a light in his eyes that Beth was very familiar with.

Rick rubbed a hand over his jaw, shifting as he glanced back at Daryl. "Think you and Beth could do a sweep before heading back?"

Their eyes met as he twisted to look back at her. She lifted a shoulder in response, her chin dipping slightly.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "Not a problem."

"Aright." Rick reached out and clasped hands with Morgan. "I appreciate you lettin' us know about this, man."

"Why wouldn't I?" The question seemed genuinely asked and Rick seemed lost for the span of a heartbeat to find an answer before Morgan continued, not bothered by the lack of one. "If I see anything else, I'll get word to you."

Not required to answer, Rick seemed more at ease, stepping back from his friend. "I wish you'd come inside the zone. Helluva lot safer in there than it is out here."

Morgan snorted. "Now you and I both know tha' isn't true."

And without another word, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked into the trees, his footsteps making barely more than a soft crunch over the floor of pine needles.

The four of them watched him go with varying reactions. She moved away from where she stood next to Michonne, approaching Daryl and brushing her fingers over the cuff of his sleeve. He looked down at her, leaning a little towards her as he nodded. When she glanced away, she saw Rick's eyes flickering up from where her hand lingered. There was something in his expression that she didn't understand, but it made her stomach clench.

He looked between them. "Y'all watch yer backs out here."

She expected him to add something to that. In fact, he'd opened his mouth as if he were going to, but he just closed it again as Daryl muttered that they would. Beth felt Michonne's eyes on her again, thoughtful and subdued. She met the other woman's gaze, seeing a question that wouldn't be asked and that she didn't know how to answer. It was the same one she could see in Rick's face. She wondered if Daryl could see it too.

Probably, if the way he tensed under her hand was any indication.

Beth warred with herself, resisting the overwhelming, simultaneous urges to both drop her hand and grip his arm tighter. Although there was little more than interest in their stares, it was disquieting. Because she suspected what would eventually follow. Neither Rick nor Michonne missed very much. It would take very little observation to begin seeing how little she and Daryl needed to communicate. And that realization would lead to a very slippery slope, because she just didn't really know what their reactions would be. She liked to think that there would only be acceptance, but did she honestly, truly know that?

Her lips thinned as she pressed them together, working to keep her thoughts from crossing her features and to keep her eyes focused on the man in front of her, not the one beside her. As badly as she wanted to see how Daryl was reacting, now wasn't the time. Maybe they thought the same.

"Make sure y'all get back t'the gate before dark. I ain't keen on y'all bein' out here when the sun sets, not when we ain't got a good idea what else might be wanderin' around," Rick said, nodding one more time before he spun on his heel and back towards Michonne with long strides. Together, they quickly started back the way they'd come, disappearing around the side of the house.

When they were out of sight, Beth tipped her head back to see Daryl's face, that tightness still in her gut. As he met her look, she thought that he looked disgruntled. The lines around his eyes were deep and there was tension in his jaw. It was in his shoulders too, how they hunched just a little forward, like he was uncomfortable and pissed about it. She reckoned that was about right as he jerked his head towards the trees.

"C'mon. We're losin' daylight just standin' here," he said roughly, walking in that direction as her hand fell away.


	58. Chapter 58

The longer they walked through the pine trees, the more Daryl felt like a complete ass.

They'd been on the move for a couple of hours by his reckoning, hardly exchanging more than a handful of words between them. Beth was barely in sight, moving through the underbrush with hardly a sound several yards away from him. She never looked in his direction, pointedly keeping her eyes averted to the woods or on the ground, scanning for tracks. He didn't much like that she was keeping so much distance between them, but he didn't reckon he could blame her.

Since they'd met up with Morgan, he'd felt prickly, like a burr had got caught somewhere under his skin and he couldn't reach it. It didn't make much sense. Hell, it didn't make _any_ damn sense. The look Rick had given them hadn't helped that feeling, like he'd been looking at something that didn't settle right with him. What the hell had that been about? Fuck if he knew. It'd made him damn uncomfortable, but that hadn't been him a good enough reason to brush Beth off like a house fly the way he had. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't done anything wrong. He liked that she reached out to him. He liked the way she looked at him and the way she spoke to him, like he was there and she wanted him to be.

He wanted to tell her that, but every time they paused and he had a chance to try, it was like the words would get stuck in his throat. And the farther they went, the more pissed off he got at himself.

He glanced at Beth again, watching the long braid she'd woven behind her ear sway against her cheek as ducked beneath a thick thorned vine. When her hands came out to catch against something, it was gently, the barest brushing away of tangled branches and young saplings. Her footsteps were soft over the ground, hardly making an impression in the mud. Daryl snorted quietly. Woman needed to eat more. She was scrawny enough as it is. Walking that light, nothing but long limbs, big blue eyes, and that mass of pale hair, she was liable to be mistaken for a pretty little ghost slipping through the trees.

As his gaze flickered between her and the ground, he wondered if this was how she'd moved with Morgan. Had they tracked walkers, or deer, like this? Had Morgan taken her under his wing, showing her the finer points of trailing prey that Daryl himself had never gotten to teach her? He could see the two of them hunched over, their heads almost touching as Morgan pointed out something to her, a mirror many moments he himself had shared with her. It made something hot churn in his stomach and he grumbled under his breath, eyes narrowing. Thinking about shit like this was stupid. But Christ if imagining her doing the same things she'd done with him didn't make him hot under the collar. Hunting, tracking, eating mud snakes, drinking moonshine in the summer night with her eyes glowing and her cheeks flushed while she smiled all sweet an-

The muscle in his jaw tightened. Guilt was a sour taste in his mouth. If he'd never left her in that trunk, she'd have been with her family, even if she couldn't remember them. She wouldn't have had to wake up along and locked in a dark, hot coffin. He should have checked for a pulse, felt for a heartbeat, or just fucking looked. Then she wouldn't have had to wander with the whim of a man half out of his mind, scrabbling to survive with no idea who she was or where they were going. Beth'd deserved a helluva better than that. He couldn't delude himself into thinking that she'd have been safer if he'd made a different decision that day, but at least she'd have been with people who fucking loved her, who wanted her with them. He'd missed her like a blinded man missed light, and he'd done his damnedest to ignore the loss. But if he'd known...

God knew how it would have turned out. Better for him, but would it have been better for her? Would she have been able to handle herself half as well if she hadn't been with Morgan for so long, having to watch her own back as well as his? Something else he could add to the list of shit he didn't know.

Keeps gettin' bigger all the time, don't it, baby brother? Merle chuckled, the sound of a spit as loud in his ears as if the man had been standing right by him. Bought time you started rememberin' how damn useless you are without me. Couldn't find yer ass with both hands.

Jesus, he was getting tired of that bastard.

In his peripheral, Daryl saw Beth suddenly freeze, one boot slightly above the ground before she gingerly stepped to the side. Mindful of the vines, he walked under the low branches of an oak towards her, easing his crossbow down as she crouched, her fingers hovering over something in the leaves. His head canted as he came up beside her, eyes tracing the length of an impression that sank into black dirt.

She pointed, speaking softly over her shoulder. "Someone light and small. Not in much of a hurry either. Tracks are old. A day, pushin' two."

Daryl grunted. "Hn. Probably that Enid kid Carl hangs around. Ain't had an easy time inside. She climbs the wall every couple of days, walks around out here."

It was the most he'd said to her in over an hour and he could see the recognition of that in the way she looked up at him. It made him feel that much more like a jackass. Scowling, he slung the bow across his back and stuck his hand out to help her up. Unhesitatingly, she took it, her grip strong where her fingers curled around one side of his wrist, hardly spanning the breadth of it. It made him think that her hands were almost dainty, deceptively so. With a sharp tug, he pulled her upright and she easily caught her feet, immediately dropping her hand away from his as she slipped past him, putting distance back between them. He resisted the urge to rub his fingers over his palm.

Her head tipped back as she squinted upwards. "Got a good bit of daylight left," she said quietly, angling her head so that she was once again looking at him over her shoulder. "Wanna keep goin' or head back?"

He chewed on his lip for a long minute before responding, glancing away from her as his grip on the strap of his crossbow increased. _Fuck_ , he didn't know how to fix that look in her eyes, like she was equal parts wary and uncertain. It was that same look she'd given him right after the prison, like he was going to hurt her, she just didn't know when. It hadn't exactly been fear so much as watchfulness. He didn't think there was much in this world that could have scared that girl to start with, and he sure as hell had never been one of them. At the time, he'd been too damn deep in his own head then to respond to it, but he'd recognized it for what it was - the same flat gaze that his mom had leveled on his old man more than once, waiting for that shoe to drop, for the blow to fall, bracing for it.

And he _hated_ that Beth had that look, that she even knew how make that expression, because it indicated that she'd been hit with shit before. He knew she had. Losing her mom the way she had, her brother, her dad - that'd fuck anyone up. It _had_ fucked her up. The scar on her wrist proved that. But what it hadn't done was break that streak of steel in her spine. The girl that'd followed him out of that smoking prison yard had been tougher than anyone had been willing to admit. He'd been catching glimpses of that girl today, the old Beth. The one who'd been one half wildcat and one half kitten, skittish and distrustful, a more subdued version of the woman that'd tracked him outside the zone gates. He'd brought that back out in her with a movement and it was like every moment of their relationship until that point had vanished like dust in a slight gust.

Christ, he didn't know how to fix this.

"I reckon we can head back," he answered her finally, ignoring the acidic churning in his gut when she quickly slid her eyes from him when he spoke. "Done made a big damn circle 'round the place, ain't seen nuthin'."

"Fair enough," she agreed with a short nod.

He watched her check her direction, making sure she was facing east before moving again, slightly off-kilter from the direction they'd come from. Daryl fell in behind her, letting her take the lead as he kept an eye behind them. Silence drifted back down around them again, broken only by the crunch of leaves and the occasional bird call. Daryl let it stretch between them, frustrated as he tried to both sort his thoughts and ignore the sound of his brother's mocking crows in the back of his skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long with this chapter, guys. Between some developments in my personal life and Daryl's damn stubbornness, I had to throw up my hands for a couple of days. Updates may be spotty for the next couple of weeks, although I'm going to try to have no more than a two days between each of them. As always, thank y'all so much for your patience and support! It bears repeating: Best readers ever! :)


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's the latest chapter! Unfortunately, updates are going to continue to be spotty for a while. I have a lot on my plate and I'm trying to juggle a good bit of things at one time. Hopefully, though, it won't last long. As always, thank y'all so much for all the love and support!

It was pitch black around her as Beth sat with her back against a post, perched on the back porch railing with one foot dangling and the other curled under her thigh. Clouds had rolled over the stars, extinguishing them like blowing out tiny flames. She hadn't responded to Eric's chipper chatter when they'd gotten back to the house after letting Rick know they hadn't found anything. As if sensing her subdued mood, the redhead had done his best to draw a smile out of her. She'd given him one, if only to set keep him from hovering over her while she shelled a basket of butterbeans.

They sat in her lap, dull in their basket and their shells scattered under the shrubs that grew along the railing in a neat row. Absently, she combed her fingers through them, enjoying their coolness against her skin. She had her face turned towards the wall, listening to the dry leaves flutter and crack in the tree beside her. No lights were on in the house. Eric and Aaron had long since gone to bed, finally leaving her to finish her task in relative peace when she indicated that she wasn't hungry at their gentle prompting for her to come in and eat. She'd finished hours ago, setting the basket down and just angling her head so that she could stare out across the yard, her head once again full of thoughts that made her miss the silence of before.

Beth hadn't spoken more than a handful of words to Daryl since they reached the gate. He seemed lost in thought for much of their trek and as strong as the urge was to look at him, make sure that he was alright, she denied it. He'd made it pretty clear that he wanted space. She didn't know how much, or for how long, but until he came to her, she'd leave him be. She remembered what he was like when people pushed him. He dug in his heels and pulled away as far as he could. Sometimes he would be gone for days, hunting the woods around the prison in an effort to get distance between him and their well meaning family.

She understood that tendency better now, after...after being shot. God, it was hard to say, even in her own head, she thought ruefully, reaching up to rub her fingers across the scar at her hairline. That didn't make it any less true. She really did get it. If there had been anything better than the assurance she'd had in traveling with Morgan that they could depend on one another, it was the guarantee of little conversation. Not that there'd been much point to it, with his disinterest and her inability to verbalize much more than a grunt. Both of them were too focused on just putting one foot in front of the other to bother with more than the occasional gesture of warning or agreement.

In that sense, it'd been a relationship that had mirrored hers and Daryl's after the prison rather closely. Maybe that was why she'd felt comfortable with Morgan. Maybe on some subconscious level, she'd drawn that comparison. She wondered what Daryl would think of it.

Likely not much, she thought with a snort, considering how open he was with his opinion on the crazy bastard.

There was a quiet swish of noise behind her and she turned to see the screen door swinging open. The smell of smoke drifted towards her, hard features highlighted by the orange glow at the end of a cigarette. The tiny point of light was reflected in his eyes, turning them bottomless black pools. Shoving a hand through his hair, Daryl stepped out onto the porch, letting the door slam behind him as he approached the railing. He slouched against the post opposite hers, his shoulder braced against the wood as he breathed out a thick stream that billowed up in the frigid air.

Plucking it from his lips with a thumb and forefinger, he dropped his arm, flicking ash with the tip of a finger as he glanced at her sideways. "You cold?"

Beth shook her head slowly, pulling up on the sleeves of her thick sweater so that her collarbones were no longer exposed. He dipped his head before taking another deep drag from the cigarette. His voice changed, lowered as he spoke to her gruffly, his eyes suddenly fixed on the yard.

"Were you plannin' on goin' t'bed anytime soon?"

It was the best olive branch he could give. She knew that, although she didn't understand what had caused him to pull away in the first place. His shoulders curled slightly forward as he asked the question, like he was waiting for her to reject it, to reject him. It made her chest ache to see. But she couldn't acknowledge that. To do so would throw open a line of communication too direct for either of them to handle comfortably. This was so new, and so very fragile. Beth suspected that neither of them really knew what they were doing, or why. If they did, they weren't ready to verbalize it, to pull it into the world so firmly that they couldn't go back.

Bluntly, she said, "Didn't know if I was welcome."

He turned to her fully then, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and his arms folded across his broad chest. He didn't answer her, just stared quietly. But there was a wealth of words in that look, things that she recognized, but didn't dare define. That would make it too real too. She sat stiffly, wary and unsure. It felt like they were suspended there, in that small moment, neither of them fully understanding it. They were on different pages, watching one another across a gap that they couldn't quite bridge.

There were things going on in his head, things she wasn't privy too, and the same was true of him. They weren't mind readers. They  _saw_  one another. Neither of them had ever needed or wanted words, so easily and freely given. People spoke, but they never said anything. Nothing worth hearing, anyway. Mouths opened and lips gave shape, but the meaning was never entirely clear. People thought they talked, thought they gifted and touched with the movement of their tongues, but it was so far from the truth. That was in the eyes, and the hands, and the tilt of your head and the intake of your breath - words in motion, an open channel that could give away the nature of your thoughts, if you weren't careful.

And they were both being so very careful right then. Daryl ticked his chin just a little and she heard another question, a search for reassurance. Beth gave it in the flick of her eyes and watched as his features softened. She sought her own comfort with a gentle canting of her head, her body relaxing slightly.  _Was_ she still welcome? Her breathing hitched when he snorted, his hair swaying into his eyes as he glanced down at his boots then back up again, the corner of his mouth tilting in that all too familiar half-smirk, as if he couldn't believe she thought she had to ask.

She gripped her sweater tighter around her and his face fell a little. Stubbing out his cigarette on the rail, the tiny light was stamped out, plunging them back into the dark. Beth blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust. There was a soft sound that she believed was the butt landing in the shrubs. Then a couple of creaks as Daryl crossed the small space between them. There was a warmth next to her thigh. He was close, close enough that after one more creak, she felt the brush of his jacket against her jeans. She couldn't see him, and he didn't say anything, but she could feel him. She could feel the way he was looking at her, like the world had narrowed and it made the ache in her chest that much tighter, the air heavy with things neither of them wanted to find the words to say.

Blindly, she reached out, her fingertips grasping at his belt loops before she slid it over, finding his hand. Beth threaded her warm fingers through his cool ones, her skin rasping over thick callouses and rough scars. His thumb stroked the back of her knuckles as he turned her hand over in his, holding them both there, anchored.

He inched closer and she felt the palm of his free hand ghost along the curve of her jaw before his fingers gripped her there lightly, cupping her chin. He tilted her head back a little, his hand slipping towards her neck, to the strands that fell around her shoulders. His hand fisted there, holding her hair tight and she leaned to the side, into him. His breath fanned against her cheek, cigarettes and cold leather, his nose bumping there as he bent down. She closed her eyes, letting the last tendril of tension leave her.

Beth didn't think anything was fixed. She didn't even know if there was anything that really needed fixing, except in his mind. Something wasn't right. It'd take a while before it was. There was misfired rounds from both sides because neither one was sure of the target.

But that was alright.  _They_  were alright. Eventually, one or the other would get it. They'd find one another.

Because they'd done it before.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for your patience and support! I know that many of you were eagerly looking forward to the next chapter and I'm relieved that I could get it out before a whole week was up. Cross your fingers that I can get back to a regular updating schedule, things are starting to calm down a little in my neck of the woods. I hope y'all enjoy this one and please, please keep up with leaving comments and kudos, y'all just don't know how encouraging it is. It keeps me writing! Love you guys! :)

She'd been there when he'd woken up this time.

Daryl edged his thumb along the point of the bolt he was whittling, testing its sharpness. His legs were spread wide as he sat on the back steps, his smaller pocket knife in one hand as he braced his elbows on his knees, a pile of thin branches on the porch boards at his hip. A smoke was clamped between his lips, wafting up from the corner of his mouth as he lower the wood and scraped the knife along the line of it. It'd been damn tempting to just lay there with her, his fingers trapped in her long blonde hair and her head tucked into his chest, but there was just too much to get done. He didn't let his thoughts rove back towards the night before. Better to accept that things were alright again, for the time being, and not poke at it. Liable to drive himself crazy that way.

She'd reached for him.

She'd accepted the piss poor attempt at an apology that he gave with that gentle touch of hers and that was more than fucking enough. He sure as hell didn't deserve it, didn't deserve _her_. The woman was walking sunshine, bright and warm and so goddamn sweet that hardly anyone could ever catch a glimpse of the steel underneath it all.

Hell, he didn't know anyone who did.

The screen door creaked open behind him. There was the sound of light footsteps, hard-soled shoes quietly clacking over the paint-smoothed wooden boards before long legs in denim appeared in the corner of his eye. Blonde hair swept down as Beth bent over, taking one step down so that she was then sitting next to him, his bolts between them. Her arms hooked around her thin knees. He traced the line of her shoulders with his eyes, but he didn't see any of the tension that'd been there before. She was relaxed, for the most part, and it made some of the guilt still lingering in his gut loosen its hold.

"When were you plannin' on us goin' out?" she asked, her eyes on the wall across the yard.

Daryl grunted as he slid his knife along the wood. "Figurin' in about an hour or two. Give us a good part of the day t'look around again, see if anythin' was nearby last night."

She scraped the toe of her shoe over the top of the step and nodded, twisting slightly and wordlessly reaching for one of the branches at the top of the pile. Retrieving one of the knives from her boot, she copied the way he held his own stick and started to shape it end into a point. He paused in his work to watch her for a long moment, his gaze traveling from her hands up to the fixed, serene expression on her face.

"Yer dad teach ya t'do tha'?" he asked gruffly.

"My brother," she said simply before glancing up with a small, wistful smile. "Shawn liked workin' with his hands. Said it kept 'em in good shape for ridin' Tucker."

He held up the branch in his hand, inspecting it critically. "Reckon tha' was his horse."

She nodded again, her lips still quirked in that tiny half-smile. "Yeah. Big ol' roan stallion. Meanest son of a bitch in the world too, 'specially if ya didn't have a sugar cube for him." He snorted, swiping his thumb down the makeshift bolt, checking for any splintering as she continued. "Shawn liked t'take him t'shows, ropin' and thangs like tha'. Was pretty good too."

There was a longing in her voice that made his chest tighten. Her features were lined, reflecting a pain that had never healed, just scabbed over into something she could pick at and let bleed a little. That was something he understood a little too well.

Aw, like you really gave a shit, Merle sneered from the back of his head, making Daryl blow out a hard breath past his lips.

Shut it, you fucker.

Out loud, he made a low noise in his throat before asking, "You do any of tha'? Ridin' and shit?"

Her face relaxed a bit. "Some. I tended t'fight gettin' into the saddle more than anythin'." She held a hand up above her head, palm down over the crown of her hair with a self-deprecating smirk. "Bit on the short side."

It was weird, hearing her talk like this, having a conversation after they'd spent so long without talking at all.

_It's what normal people talk about._

He ducked his head to keep her from seeing the twitch of his mouth. What the fuck was normal anyway? For all he'd ever cared, it was bullshit tossed out by a bunch of fuckers that couldn't bust their way out of a cardboard box, let alone walk outside and see what the world was really like. If they could, they sure as hell wouldn't have ever come up with the dead-end idea of having some kind of universal average that applied to everyone across the board. Shit like that just didn't exist.

He hadn't lied though. He _had_ missed the sound of her voice. Probably more than he was willing to admit. Woman had a way of lighting up a place when she talked. Or when she sang. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her sing.

_We'll drink up our grief_

_And pine for summer..._

Yeah, that probably was the last time. Candle flames had caught in her hair like the sun when it was setting and her voice had carried all the way to the front door where he'd been locking up. It'd pulled at him until he'd rounded that archway and then stopped him cold, watching as her fingers gently pressed on the keys of the organ that was probably older than both of them put together. And then she'd sang for _him_ , comforting both of them with an echo of the dead world around them. Fuckin' beautiful. And he hadn't deserved it.

Still didn't.

Daryl was so deep in his head he barely noticed that silence had fallen around them again, as if Beth had sensed his mood and didn't want to disturb it. Blinking, he kept his head down, bent over the bolt he was working on and let the quiet lie. It was...comfortable. She worked with him, the only sound the soft shuck of their knives along the woods' grain, and she seemed content with that. It was a reminder that he'd been the one to initiate the conversation to start with. And that startled him a little. He wasn't one to do that. Never had been. Learned young to keep his trap shut. Easier to stay out of mind that way. Weren't ever nobody that much wanted to talk to him no way, and vice versa.

But he'd genuinely wanted to know that small detail about her past, which was weird too because these days, that barely mattered anymore. It was something they'd talked about before, sitting on a porch like this.

_Her voice had been so soft, a sigh that was swallowed by the last breath of summer. "I wish I could just... change."_

_"You did," he assured her gruffly._

_She laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Not enough. Not like you. It's like you were made for how things are now."_

_He dug his knife into the boards they were sitting on, his hair obscuring part of his face as he turned away, unable to hold that knowing look. "I'm just used to it, things being ugly. Growing up in a place like this."_

_"Well, you got away from it."_

_"I didn't."_

_"You did."_

_He didn't reply at first, turning back to her with a feeling that, if it'd been any other man, might have been described as shy. "Maybe you got to keep on reminding me sometimes."_

_"No," she said immediately, her mouth slipping into that bittersweet smile again. "You can't depend on anybody for anything, right? I'll be gone someday."_

Christ, if she'd had any idea how damn true that'd turned out to be...well, she'd have probably said it anyway. Sweet as she could be, she didn't flinch away from saying what was true, even when he didn't want to hear it. Especially when he didn't want to hear it. Words had a funny power like that. Long as you didn't say it, you could figure that you were safe. What you wanted to hide stayed that way, tucked under something dark where you could ignore the fuck out of it.

Daryl glanced at her again, watching as her hand moved in a fluid repeating motion, and wondered if that was what she was doing now. Quietly smoothing things between them to soothe the unease that he wasn't very good at keeping to himself. Self-control wasn't one of his strengths, he'd own up to that much. She knew shit wasn't right yet. No way that she didn't, even if that watchful look had left her eyes. Wouldn't be right until he got his own head sorted out. And that was a nest of cats that he sure as fuck didn't want to get near again. He'd run in circles the whole fucking day yesterday trying to figure out how to fix it, to fix this feeling in the back of his head that made his belly clench and his skin cold. All it'd done was make more knots, tangling shit up to the point that he wanted to punch something. It was stupid, constantly mulling over the 'what if's', wondering if things would have been better if he'd just taken a goddamned second to check for a pulse.

He growled under his breath in frustration, causing Beth's hand to pause for a millisecond before she resumed. Quit fucking it up, he told himself. She was here. She still gave a damn. That hadn't changed. Be damn grateful for that and man the _fuck_ up.

Footsteps from the corner of the house had them both glancing up to see Carol walking quickly along the line of shrubs in a thick floral sweater and crisply pressed slacks. Her features, at first set in a pleasant expression, slipped into the cool frown she'd taken to wearing since Atlanta when no one was looking, shedding the sweet, motherly persona like pulling down a mask. She spared a quick, fond look for Beth, one that was so quick he might have missed it if he hadn't been watching to make sure she didn't try to reach for the woman beside him. Carol wasn't driven like Maggie though, not in the same way and she seemed mindful to keep a healthy distance between them.

She tipped her head to the left, indicating the row of houses that marched down beside theirs. "Y'all need to come see this."

"See what?" he asked roughly, putting aside the bolt and pushing up.

Carol took a couple steps back to give them room. "Somebody strung up a walker outside the gate. Looks like a message."

"Shit," Daryl swore, bending to the side to snatch up his crossbow as Beth bent down to replace her knife back into her boot. Rick'd want them tracking.

Carol pulled something from under the back of her sweater, wrapped with a thin washcloth. "I couldn't grab a lot, but take these anyway." She flicked the edge back to reveal a small revolver and Beth's knife, along with his.

"Works fine," Beth assured her. If Carol was surprised at the way she spoke, she didn't show it, although Daryl knew for a fact that Rick had told all of them about Beth before they'd left.

Beth slicked the blade into its sheath at her belt and checking the cylinder before closing it with a practiced flick of her wrist. She didn't ask if anyone had seen the older woman. Wasn't a need to. Daryl didn't wait and she didn't need him to, tucking the pistol into the waistband of her jeans at her lower back as all three of them briskly strode across the neatly kept backyards, making a beeline for the front gate.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so sorry that updates are taking so long. I'd hoped that things would have calmed down more in my personal life, but it seems like when the dust settles after one thing, something else crops up. And my muse has up and decided to give up the ghost on me here lately. I'm floundering creatively, things just aren't coming together for me. So updates may still be a bit spotty over the next few weeks, but I promise that I'm not abandoning this story! Updates WILL keep coming, just at a slower rate than they have been in the past. Thank you all so much for the love and support that y'all have shown for me and for Feral!
> 
> Also, a guest suggested I Believe by Christina Perri as a song for Beth as she is in this fic and I thought it was absolutely perfect. So thank you, lovely reader, for that recommendation, and I highly encourage y'all to go check it out! I'm always open to suggestions for songs, art commissions, etc. so please feel free to contact me if you have something you'd like to suggest or create for Feral! :)

She smelled it long before they actually reached the gate. Rot was a hard thing to miss, sickly sweet yet acrid, burning the back of your tongue and coating it in a taste that could make you want to wash your mouth out with turpentine.

Rick stood next to the gate like he had yesterday, this time with Michonne leaning against the wall next to him, her arms folded and one foot propped against the steel beam that served as a brace. Her sword was no where in sight, but there was a pistol strapped to her thigh and she looked exceedingly comfortably wearing it. Her left shoulder was almost tucked behind Rick's back, the long plaits of her hair brushing against the sleeve of his jacket. They exchanged a short glance as the three of them came closer, one that Beth didn't miss.

It seemed speculative and when they turned their gazes, one bright and one dark, towards her, she acknowledged them with a short nod and a slight smile. Rick's lips tilted up back at her, as did Michonne's, and she was slightly surprised to see that there was a genuine pleasure in their faces at seeing her, despite the circumstances. It seemed like shit hitting the fan was always the circumstance. She almost wanted to ask which Beth it was that they were looking at when they saw her. The one before, that was quiet and sang and smiled gently, or the one that came after, with a hole in her head and blood dried deep into her skin like ink.

Then again, she wasn't sure that she really wanted to know at all.

Stuffing the thought in the back of her mind, Beth moved so that she trailed a step behind Daryl, narrowing her eyes as she glanced to the left to see Nick standing with his ever present rifle clutched tightly in both hands. He stared at her warily, as if a blink was all it would take for her to cross the distance between them and slide a knife between his ribs. Much like the first time she'd laid eyes on him, she still would have bet one of them that he'd piss his pants if she bared her teeth at him. Daryl stopped beside Rick, angling his head towards the other man even as his eyes cut to the gate.

"Who found it?"

Rick jerked his head back towards the tower. "Sasha spotted it when she climbed up this morning."

Daryl grunted, shifting his crossbow to his left hand as he reached out and flung the gate back. Beth stood close by, her hand at her hip as she ducked under the arm he held high for her to pass beneath, checking along the length of the wall. Nodding that it was clear, she passed in front of him and drew the knife completely as he aimed down the other side. Rick and Michonne were at their backs while Carol lingered just inside the gate, her large eyes coolly watching Nick as he fidgeted in place. It made Beth feel better to know she was there. She didn't trust that sheep to be able to do jack if things went south.

The wind bit through her sweater as she turned slightly, keeping her back to Daryl's as she cautiously sidestepped further out beyond the wall. Rick and Michonne had undoubtedly scouted things out beforehand, but that didn't mean something or someone else hadn't cropped up in the meantime. The revolver nestled against her back was a cold, comforting weight, almost as much as the knife that slipped easily into her hand. Leaves swirled up around their legs, pushed up the narrow street by a stuttering gust, rustling softly. Tucking her arm tight along the line of her body, Beth's eyes flickered back and forth over the weed-choked shells of buildings.

It was probably less than a hundred feet from the gate itself, swaying from the lowest branch of a large maple tree that grew just beside the road, twitching and gurgling. It was naked, skin hanging in shreds from the soles of its bare feet, leaving swaths of white meat exposed. Clumps of blonde hair hung in ratty strands, what hadn't been caught in the rope around its neck covering parts of its chest. Gnarled hands spasmed at its side, lifting with a wet snarl as its milky eyes seemed to focus on the small group. Beth glanced over its face, focusing on the deep wounds that looked as though they had been carved into its forehead.

"Daryl," she said softly.

"I see it," he muttered back before speaking towards Rick. "How many y'all got sweepin' the woods?"

"Glenn's got a couple volunteers headin' north. Rosita's got two with her goin' round the wall." Rick tipped his head back as he moved closer to the walker, just out of reach as it jerked on the rope. He put his hands on his hips as Michonne circled his back, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her service pistol. "Whatcha figure? Warnin'?"

"Maybe." Daryl loaded a bolt into the crossbow, angling the shot so that it whistled through the rope and sunk into the branch as the walker hit the ground with a thump.

Beth bent down and slid her knife through its soft temple like she was slicing butter. It's body gave with a shudder, going limp as she crouched next to it, plucking up one of the thicker clumps of hair and using it to swipe the blade clean. Checking the area across from them, she then tilted her head down, indicating one of the slashes that marked the dead woman's forehead with the tip of her index finger.

"Person tha' cut up th'one yesterday probably did this one too," she murmured to Daryl, who'd come to kneel beside her.

He made a low sound of agreement under his breath, his hand brushing hers as he reached out and traced the air above the cuts that shaped a crude 'w'. "Left-handed, slants down, don't hesitate. Eh...hardcore son of a bitch."

"More than one," Michonne said quietly, causing both of them to look up. She gestured to the branch above their heads. "Hangin' that thing wasn't a one person job."

Rick let out a breath, scrubbing a hand through his curly hair. "Confident bastards if they're leavin' callin' cards like this."

"S'one word for it," Daryl said, pushing himself up and reaching to swipe his bolt from the tree.

Beth stayed next to the corpse, pushing her hair back from her face as she glanced down the dead woman's body. She was covered in nicks and scrapes, especially around the knees and hands. Defensive marks? Probably. She hadn't been dead long, not like the walker before. Couple months, give or take. It was hard to tell for sure, but from the lack of flesh on her frame, she'd been hurting for food for a while. Caught out on her own and killed? Kept somewhere maybe? No way to know.

Daryl bumped his knee against her shoulder and she stood up at the wordless prompt, keeping her knife pointed down along her thigh. She tapped it's edge against her jeans and shook her head. She didn't have anything relevant to offer. Daryl's boots crunched as he shifted and her eyes drifted to the ground, searching over it. Tracks led to and back to the narrow pavement, marks that matched the treads she could see on the bottom of Rick and Michonne's boots. Hers and Daryl's weren't as deep, but still evident over the top of the brown grass.

There was movement behind her and she heard Daryl's distinctive steps. "Whatcha see?" he asked her gruffly.

She swept her hand up along the dirt. "Somebody parked," she said, frowning as she looked up at him over her shoulder. "Strung her up from the bed."

Their eyes met and she could see the lines around his mouth tighten, the implications of what she said flashing harsh across his features. He twisted around.

"Who the fuck was on gate duty last night?"

Rick's expression was grim, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth for a split second before answering, "Nick."

"And he didn't say shit?" Daryl snorted. "Figures. Only dumb ass tha'd miss somethin' like a fuckin' engine."

Beth's lips twisted, silently agreeing as she brushed her hand off on her knee. Sheep. Too damn happy being inside the pen to worry about the wolf slinking along its perimeter. She nudged Daryl with her elbow, ticking her chin in the direction the road led and he nodded before glancing back at Rick, who was watching them with that speculative expression again.

"Y'all see how far them tracks lead, but don't start nothin'. Ya see somethin', y'all come back."

Daryl snorted again. "Ain't suicidal or stupid."

Rick rubbed his jaw before letting his hand drop to rest on the top of his revolver, not addressing his friend's surly response. "Me n' Michonne'll get more people up on the wall, get folks t'step up patrolin' durin' the day-"

"Get some other jackass on gate duty," Daryl interrupted with a growl, his grip tight on his crossbow as his eyes slid back to the body on the ground.

"I'll take it up with Deanna."

Daryl made another noise that sounded derisive, muttering some sort of response, but Beth had stopped listening by that point. Following the lines left in the debris that covered the road, she angled her head as she moved to stand in the middle of the highway, trailing beside the marks left by wide tire treads. Big truck, heavy, slow. Double set of tires along the back, set of singles in the front. The way they rolled up so close to the gate, they weren't intimidated or concerned about who might see or hear them. They wanted to be noticed. Cocky. Likely meant they had numbers, or at least enough ammunition and firepower to feel like the people in the zone weren't an issue.

Immediately, her mind leapt to the possibility that they'd been followed from the mountains and her stomach clenched. They'd been careful, but those people had taken the car. They'd long pawed through what had been in the trunk and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out where they'd come from. Alexandria was well outside their territory, but as nice as it was, as relatively safe and sufficient as it was, it became tempting. It could be another group entirely. There was that chance too.

This wasn't a warning, she realized as she looked up, her mouth set in a grim line. It wasn't even a threat. It was a declaration. We've been watching. We see you. We see what you have. And we'll take it.

Her fingers squeezed around the hilt of her knife as she slid it back into its sheath.

_We're coming._


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just drained. Physically and mentally drained. Between family and work, I'm fighting tooth and nail to carve out time to write and it's a losing battle right now. Trying to get back to a regular updating schedule, but I just don't know when that's going to be. Hopefully soon. I miss being able to work on this story and it feels so good to get an update out. Still love you guys though. Thanks for the encouraging words and support that y'all have continued to send me!

The tracks led well outside the devastation that ringed the zone, far enough that Daryl was willing to consider backtracking for a vehicle. Whoever they were, they weren't staying all that close. And they weren't sticking to the woods neither. He kept sweeping his eyes over the treeline on the other side of the road, through the trees they walked through as they kept the highway in their line of sight, but he never saw any sign of something moving aside from the occasional squirrel. There weren't even walkers roaming around, not a trace of them and that was just fucking weird. There should have at least been some sign, broken branches, something like what the print they'd found yesterday, but it was like the woods this far out from the zone had lain undisturbed for months. The only thing visible was the steady parallel lines of wheels slicing through the debris that'd collected on the road. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Beth wove through the pine trees a little to his right, her head angled so that she kept an eye on both the road to their far left and the ground. She palmed her knife in her right hand, her footsteps hardly more than a whispered brush of sound. The dark grey jacket she wore over her sweater was as good a camouflage as any. With her hair tucked beneath its collar and her dark jeans, she blended in against the autumn colors that were slowly falling away as winter loomed in the cold, biting air.

The highway wound its way north and west, slipping between deep ditches half full with dark muddy water. Weeds stretched upwards to thigh height, choking the edges of the man made trench on their side. Browned pine needles floated on the water's surface, gusts causing them to sway and ripple in time with the wheat-colored crow's feet that grew above them. With the exception of their soft footsteps and the occasional caw from a disgruntled crow, it was quiet, almost lonesome. It was easy, maybe even a little tempting, to think that they were the only two people in the world, everything and everyone vanishing in a waft of smoke behind them.

Adjusting his grip on the crossbow, Daryl sidestepped a thick clump of underbrush, watching the curve of the road as it bent sharply to the east. Deserted. But the tracks continued. Pausing, he signaled to Beth with a hand and a low whistle. She was at his side in a couple of strides, angling her slender frame around his elbow as he cradled the crossbow in the crook of it. He pointed, leaning down and to the side to mutter in her ear.

"Crossroads 'round the next bend. Reckon we ought t'see if they turned off anywheres, but we ain't gonna get back 'fore dark if we stay out here much longer."

It was a question of sorts, one she didn't respond to immediately, chewing on the corner of her bottom lip as her eyes narrowed, her upper body gently pressing against his bicep. He could see the thoughts churning behind the cornflower blue. Finally, she murmured back, "We should see what we see all the same. Another hour out here ain't gonna make a whole lotta difference if we haul ass back."

He snorted, nodding. Christ, she was starting to sound like him. She moved away again, her strides lengthening as she worked to keep pace with him, her features flushing and stray strands of blonde starting to stick to her forehead. His own hair hung limp over his eyes. His legs and his lungs ached, reckoning that they'd already covered at least three or four miles since that morning. A slower pace maybe, but a lot of it was uphill and they'd been stopping every couple of minutes to just listen. It'd been too fucking quiet since they'd left the gate and that silence hadn't let up. If anything, it'd intensified the further out they went. It was like the whole stretch of woods had gone dead. Creepy as fuck.

Understatement of the goddamned decade to say he didn't like it. He liked getting closer to the crossroads even less. Images of the area floated up, detailed in his memory. Thick spruce trees grew close together with pine and oak on the far side, while the rest was the vast open space of long neglected fields that didn't offer much in terms of concealment. The grass was high, but it was sparse, the dirt it pushed through thin and dry like dust, making it dangerously easy to leave a clear mark of something passing through its brittle yield. They'd be coming up from the back side of one of those fields, close to an ancient abandoned tobacco barn if he had his bearings right.

Sure enough, the telltale faded green walls came into view right at the curve, tucked deep in a copse of trees, covered in thick kudzu that crawled over and through the dilapidated structure. The roof, rusted tin that had long fallen in on itself, shuddered and warbled with each gust, an echoing clang that carried across the field before dying abruptly as the sound was absorbed by the dense pines. The crossroad itself wasn't visible, not with the yellow stalks of wheat that grew high and thick in the field, the last remnants of a crop whose farmer had long since abandoned his harvest.

Beth slipped beside him, mimicking his movements as he crouched down behind a slight rise. Aside from the rustle of wind-tossed leaves, there was little noise, except for a couple of mockingbirds that were chattering above them. After a beat, Daryl glanced at her. "C'mon."

She followed as he climbed up and slid down the other side, long strides quickly eating up the short distance between them and the tobacco shed. Watching for nails, he stepped over dark, rotting planks and ducked inside. Giving his eyes time to adjust, he drew the crossbow up, and heard the soft shuck of Beth's knife leaving its sheath. Nudging her with his elbow, he flicked his eyes up towards the narrow jut along the far wall that served as something of a loft. Wordlessly, she slinked between the fallen beams that crisscrossed the cramped interior. The bottom half of the ladder had long since broken off, the wood softened by the constant exposure.

Nimbly, she braced her foot against one of the posts still standing upright, holding up the last portion of the roof that hadn't completely collapsed. Clenching the hilt of the knife between her teeth, she pushed off with an easy shove and grabbed the closest rung. With a swing of her legs, she pulled herself up. The ladder cracked with a loud pop, even under her light weight and she scampered upwards. Daryl wove through the debris towards her, watching her with trepidation gnawing at his gut. Fuck, he shouldn't have sent her up there. First thing you know, she'll step through a weak board and bust her leg or something. Tiny as she was, that'd still be their goddamned luck.

He hissed her name, his heart thumping hard at every creak over his head as she moved, hyper aware of the slightest give of the planks. To his relief, she was quick to lean over the edge and give him a thumbs up.

"Anythin'?" he asked, putting a hand up on the lowest rung of the ladder.

She shook her head. "No. But I can see the road from up here." Her head disappeared for a long moment before she came back. "It'll support both of us, if yer careful."

Daryl snorted and shook his head, speaking in a low tone. "Fuck tha'. Just see what ya see and get yer ass back down here."

There was a subtle shift in her expression, a gentle pull forming between her brows that he'd have missed if he hadn't been looking dead at her. Then abruptly, she was gone again. Sparing the boards above him a glance every few seconds, he picked his way towards the wall beneath it, angling his head to peer through a long, thin crack that ran the length of the thin wood. There wasn't much to see other than the bushy heads of the grain stalks and the thick, milky-looking weeds that thrust up in clusters. Beth had a helluva better view.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, there was a loud creak overhead, making him grimace.

"You better not fucking come through them boards," he warned her, muttering. If she did, he was going to kick her ass as soon as he could pick her up off the floor and check for broken bones. Then he'd probably let her kick his for sending her up there.

He shook his head again, roughly, making his hair sway into his line of sight. Didn't do shit t'keep second guessing, Merle snarked from the back of his skull. It wasn't in him right then to argue with the dead man. Another creak pulled his attention back up towards the loft, a steady, rapid rhythm of wood groaning before slender jean-clad legs appeared on the rungs. Dropping down, she hung for a second from the lowest one, then let go, landing with a dull thud on the ground.

She drew close to him, hissing tersely, "Two trucks parked. Big, green."

Daryl sucked in a breath. "Shit." He looked down into her eyes searchingly. "Same ones from last week?"

Beth inclined her head in a short nod. "Yeah."

She didn't have to say anything else; they both understood the implications of their presence here. Mouth tightening into a thin, grim line, he hunkered down to look out of the crack again, knowing that it was pretty useless. They exchanged another glance, a quick, silent understanding. Too damn risky to get closer without knowing what they were actually looking at.

"You damn sure it can hold m'weight? Even the ladder?"

"Yeah. Stay along the edges and yer fine."

He made a low sound in his throat and slid his crossbow over his shoulder. "Aright. We'll turn around and come back. Gonna need shit."

She hummed under her breath in agreement. She was thinking, he could see it in the set of her features - a look that was cool, thoughtful. But there was a hardness there too, the line of her jaw tightening into that stubborn line again. Touching her shoulder, he went to pass by her. The quicker they hustled back, the quicker they'd figure out what these bastards' angle was. He wasn't stupid enough to think that they were here for anything other than taking the zone, probably getting a little payback. The question was how they were planning to go about it. That was what they need to know. Numbers, firepower, what kind of edge they had. If what they'd seen up in the mountains was any indicator, it was a damn big one.

Jesus, he hadn't seen shit and he already knew they were fucked. Only thing he didn't know was how bad yet.


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell y'all how good it feels to be writing again! My hope is that things in my life have calmed down enough that I can start regularly updating again. I've missed this story!

Beth remembered that look. She remembered how his mouth would thin into a tight line, the sharp angle of his cheek rounded as his tongue pushed against it from within, an expression of deep thoughts that were likely unpleasant. Not quite a scowl, but hardly anything less. There was anger there, a mutinous resentment that she knew was burning in his eyes even though his back was to her. She wondered if she had a similar look. Probably. If so, she was probably wearing it now, although she wasn't aware of it. Her mind was understandably preoccupied.

Daryl stood on the deck of Aaron and Eric's back porch, still as stone as he leaned one broad shoulder against a post. The cigarette dangling from his fingers smoked lazily, but he'd yet to take a drag of it. It was...disconcerting, to see him so still. The man practically vibrated with energy, even when he was hunting. Every movement was like watching a carefully controlled predator, power corded into muscle and bone that was held trapped beneath a layer of skin. At the moment, it was like he was asleep with his eyes open, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, walking so deeply in his own head that the outside world had just vanished. He'd been that way for over an hour. Since they'd left Rick and Michonne on their own porch.

It rankled. Christ, it rankled, but neither of them had seen much sense in arguing. The sheriff's points had been fair, if unwelcome. Stay put, wait it out until tomorrow. Nothing was going to be done in the intermediate and running back out there so soon was just as likely to tip their hand as it was to gather any useful information. What could they see in the dark anyway?

Some of it was just Rick blowing smoke. He hadn't bothered to hide the concern lurking in the deepening blue of his eyes. He worried. He always worried, but knowing that, at least for a night, that two of his people weren't out beyond the walls after sunset clearly settled his mind somewhat. Beth had briefly wondered if it had pricked Daryl's pride, but she'd quickly dismissed the idea. That wasn't what was bothering him. Maybe the old Daryl, the one with close cropped hair and a dead cold look on his face - that one would have been sulking right about now, and plotting, figuring out how to get around what he'd been told to do. He would have seen neither the concern nor the wisdom, begrudging as it was to admit. Even though she knew that the man she was staring at  _did_ see, she knew in equal measure that hell would freeze over before he admitted it. You never fully escaped from the person you used to be. A cat was still a cat, even if the stripes changed. It was a thought that was oddly both comforting and profoundly disturbing, because it naturally once again begged the question of, if she continued to follow the metaphor, just what kind of cat  _she_ was.

It was a question that she still didn't have an answer to. If she were being honest, she still wasn't sure that she wanted one. It was easier to just stay in the moment, not worry about trying to figure who or what she was. Why was she trying in the first place? What the hell made it so important? She tilted her head as she stared at the expanse of Daryl's back. He always seemed to know. Or maybe he didn't and just didn't care. It wasn't important, she decided, pushing herself up from her seat against the siding and moving to stand a bit apart from him at the rail. She ignored the tiny voice at the back of her mind that mentioned that she was almost always saying that these days.

She crossed her arms tightly over her stomach as a cold breeze swept through the yard, her eyes sliding towards the wall. Her head cocked, listening. Quiet, except for crickets.

Settling her upper back against a post, she tucked her fingers in under her arms to drive off their chill. From the corner of her eye, she could still see him, unmoving, like an inverted image of herself that was darker, bigger. There was a coolness in how he stood, an aloofness that masked the intense set of his eyes. They glinted in the dark, catching stray bits of light from the window next door and reflecting them back. It was a look that completely unsuited him. Daryl wasn't quiet, not like this. This felt stifling, a silence that she wanted to break almost as badly as she wanted to keep it intact. She didn't like the explosiveness of his temper, but at least she was familiar with it. Harsh, hard-hitting, but altogether brief. This brooding silence was throwing her.

Beth was startled from her thoughts when large, warm fingers slipped across her neck and burrowed into her hair, squeezing just tight enough to tug at her scalp a little.

"Quit worryin'," Daryl rasped from beside her, not looking at her as he lifted his other hand to clamp his cigarette between his lips and finally took that first drag. Turned out to be the last one too, the filter being the only piece that hadn't already been reduced to ash.

She watched him fling the still smoking stub out into the backyard without reply, her eyelids drooping a little as he kneaded the back of her head. He added a little pressure and she followed the wordless prompt, shifting closer so that his hand slipped from her hair and dropped to loosely curl around her shoulders. The tight set of his jaw eased as she tucked her head against his chest, burrowing her arms around his waist. Comfortable. Comforting.

_Relax. I'm not mad at you._

In  _this_  quiet, that was what she heard.

His thumb traced a firm path along the column of her neck, brushing beneath her ear, the ticklish sensation making her squirm a little. He made a low noise that sounded like a snort. It made the last little bit of tension leave her body. He was alright. Probably pissed, but alright. She shifted so that she could prop her chin against his chest, looking up into his face. Her eyes flickered over his features searchingly.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

She didn't have a good answer for him, so she simply said, "Just lookin'."

Daryl grunted, glancing down at her with his bright blue eyes before looking away and muttering, "Not much t'see, darlin'."

Beth almost missed the endearment, he spoke so low. Her cheeks flushed and she ducked her head to burrow into his jacket, breathing in leather. Damn, she hated feeling so off kilter. Unsure what to do with the tight warmth in her chest, and unsure of how much she should read into it, she instead changed the subject, her brows pulling together as she tilted her head back up. "Rick don't mean no harm, you know."

Daryl heaved out a breath, shifting so that his weight was more fully braced against the post. "Yeah."

"But you don't like it," she said flatly, the heat fading from her face.

"Do you?" he shot back, the question lacking the sharp venom that he'd probably meant to inject it with. To her, it just sounded tired. And maybe a little knowing, like he had already figured on what she was going to say.

She said it anyway, blonde strands catching on the rough material of his coat as she shook her head, her face rubbing against his chest. "Nah, I don't. Don't mean it ain't the smart thing t'do, though." She tipped her chin up again. "S'tha' what's buggin' you?"

"Naw, just..." he trailed off, like he was groping for words, so she waited. He rolled his shoulders and shifted again. "Just don't like it, s'all. The waitin' 'round and shit."

Beth pulled back a little, her gaze narrowing a little. "You thinkin' they're gonna try somethin' tonight?"

He scowled, shoving his other hand through his hair in frustration. "I dunno and tha's what's buggin' the hell outta me."

She didn't say anything for a long moment, moving back to rest her cheek against the smooth patch of leather that covered his chest. Her nose bumped against the zipper's cold teeth as she tucked her arm under the jacket around his middle. Her fingers couldn't even touch. He was solid and warm and she breathed in his scent. Finally, her face still pressed against him, she said, "Does Rick gotta know?"

His head jerked down so quickly that she could feel the brush of his hair against the top of her head. "You sayin' what I think yer sayin'?"

She pulled back again to look him in the eye. "Tha' we sneak over th'wall and see what those sons of bitches are up to? Yeah, yer damn right tha's what I'm sayin'." Her lips thinned into a tight line. "I don't like it anymore than you do. I get why Rick wants us to wait, but if you've got a feelin' in yer gut tha' somethin's up, then we outta go."

Daryl looked down at her in surprise, clearly taken off guard by the force of her tone. "You trust me tha' much?" The question seemed to bolt out of his mouth before he could think better of it, but she still nodded.

"Yeah," she said, her voice steady and soft. "Yeah, Daryl, I do."

He stared at her for a long while, his eyes flickering over her face, as if he was looking for some kind of answer to a puzzle he couldn't quite put together. There was something in his expression that she didn't have a name for, disbelief mingling with something else. It made her cheeks want to turn red again under the scrutiny. She wasn't used to being looked at so closely by anyone other than her parents.

_Stern eyes watching as her foot scuffed over hardwood floors, her hands held behind her back._

_Large warm hands passing over her hair as her chin is brought up to look at the shiner blackening her eye._

_A fat red letter glares as harshly as her mother, a slender finger tapping against the tablecloth as she waits for an explanation._

She shut those memories down before they drowned her, sucking in a soft breath through her mouth. If Daryl noticed the change in her expression, he didn't remark on it, instead just nodding to her slowly, that look still on his face.

"Aright. Get yer shit together and we'll see what we see."

A wave of relief washed through her as he let her go and she moved away from him, grateful that she could put her unruly mind to other things. It probably wasn't doing her any good in the long run, but if she could keep her head quiet for just a little while longer, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe that sensation of still being fractured, broken up into chunks that still weren't fitting together right, maybe that feeling would go away. Wishing thinking, she knew, but it was the only thing she felt she had standing between her and the dark that kept trying to creep up on her. A wall made out of stubbornness and smoke, but it was all she had.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! So close to the premiere! Gah, I'm so excited! To celebrate, I'm going to try and upload a chapter a day until Sunday. And because I've missed this story. Thank you guys so much for all of the encouragement and love! Seriously, thank you, I couldn't have kept this story going this long without y'all and it's so inspiring to hear from you and read your thoughts and responses. Please keep it coming! :)

Fuck this shit.

Daryl growled low under his breath, scowling at the murk coating the woods around them. The loss of visibility wasn't that much of a hindrance with the moon hanging heavy and full over the trees, but it was enough. Sounds seemed magnified, smells sharper and crisper as their focus shifted from what they could make out with their eyes. Cricket chirps were like front row seats at a concert, loud and reverberating, and the dank rising up from under his boots was thick and heavy in his nose. At the same time, the lines of the woods had visually softened, increasing the risk of stumbling over hidden roots or sunken places in the ground. It didn't help that the earth was soggy from the frequent storms in the last month. It was disturbingly easy to find yourself tumbling into a gully more often than not.

Beth seemed to have an easier time of it than he did, with her lighter steps and coltish movements, quick and sure. She walked like a goddamned deer through the trees. It made him feel like a lumbering bear in comparison, even though he was keeping an even pace with her. She still needed him to guide her, though. Kept him from being completely fucking useless, a thought his brother's sneer at the back of his skull obviously disagreed with. With a rap of his knuckles against her shoulder, or the jostle of his elbow against hers, he kept them on track towards the tobacco barn they'd found earlier that day. Daryl didn't bother keeping his crossbow out, knowing that it'd be a damned miracle if he could  _make_ a shot without a light, much less get lucky enough to have a bolt stick where he'd pointed it. Beth's knife would have to do.

The structure rose out of the dark, its interior shadows swathing it, making it seem bulkier and blacker than he remembered. He hoped to God there wasn't anything in there. Hours out from the zone, they were royally fucked if anyone had made the same decision they had and used the space for a makeshift scouting nest. He stopped, slipping behind one of the trees and peering from around its thick trunk, gnawing on his bottom lip as he studied the barn. He waited a beat, listening. Reaching out behind him, where he knew without looking she was standing. He tugged sharply on her sleeve, nudging her towards the right, swirling his finger over the fabric and tapping once to signal they'd circle in opposite directions and meet in the middle. The moonlight caught in her pale hair, flashing silver as she nodded and slipped back from beside him, knife blade a quick glint as she slinked away.

He counted to five in his head before he moved, sweeping around to the left. The knife was weighty under his fingers, a solid presence where he kept it pointed down along the line of his thigh, held just far enough away that it didn't rustle noisily against his pants leg. With his back skimming against the wall, he picked his way carefully around, the tread of his steps hushed beneath the louder creaks and groans the wind caused in the old timber. His heartbeat felt like a hard thud in his chest, tripping a steady thrum against his ribs as the fingers of his free hand curled around the barn's rotted corner. The wood was soft, giving slightly under the pressure from his grip like a damp sponge.

Glittering blue eyes met his as he eased around, causing him to let out a harsh breath through his nose as she shook her head. Daryl jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards a large gap between the boards. She stepped around him and leaned down a little to inspect it, looking back up at him dubiously. Rolling his shoulders, he made a low, rough sound in his throat and ticked his chin towards her impatiently. She huffed at him, but her expression was lost in the dark as she turned her head and wriggled inside. He was slower to follow, blowing out all the air in his lungs to squeeze between the planks and wishing like hell he'd just gone the extra minute to walk around to where they'd gone in before. Especially when he felt a nail's point tear into the back of his hand.

"Shit," he bit out, shaking out the sting as he struggled inside.

He swiped his tongue over the small wound, spitting out the blood and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. Looking around for some sign of movement, he caught a streak of white blonde in a stream of moonlight at the far side of the barn. There was a soft scraping sound from that direction and he figured she was already heading up the ladder. Still tasting metal, he trailed behind her, shoving her knife back into his belt and grabbing hold of the shoulder-height rung with a grunt. Daryl swung himself up, wincing when he heard the wood crack under his weight. He scrambled up, mindful to where he put his hands as he clambered onto what was left of the loft. The frail light that peeked in through the cracks illuminated enough that he could make out the yawning holes in the platform and he warily picked his way towards the wall, ducking his head to avoid the sloping roof.

Beth was already crouching in front of one of the larger holes, peeking out with her head tilted slightly. Her hair fanned out across the curve of her back, brushing the line of her jaw as she quickly angled her face to look the other way. He gingerly dropped into position beside her.

"Whatcha see?" he murmured.

"Nuthin' yet," she whispered back, strands catching on his coarse jacket as she whipped her head back towards him. She looked up into his face, her wide blue eyes thoughtful and earnest. "They might be down for the night."

"Mmm, maybe." He swiped his thumb over his chin, scraping his nail against the scruff. Then he stretched his hand out and plucked at the canvas pack she had over one shoulder. "Gimme them binoculars."

There was a swish of cloth rubbing against cloth as she pulled the pack around and dug inside, searching for a long moment. Then she pressed something heavy and cold into his other hand. Grunting his thanks, he lifted them up to his eyes, shifting so that he could look out. Nearly bent double, he adjusted the focusing wheel, blinking as everything came into sharp focus. With such a clear night, it wasn't difficult to see the heads of wheat waving in the field. Just past that, where the grain ended, he could just make out the shape of the massive trucks, still parked in the same spot. Light flitted over the hood of the middle one, mingling with what looked like a smudge, blacker than the trees behind it and he figured pretty quickly that it was smoke.

"Camped out over there," he said quietly, lowering the binoculars and handing them to Beth. "Looks like more than one fire."

As she held them up, he moved so that he could sit, stretching his legs out in front of him and swinging his crossbow around so that it lay across his lap. He heard her hum, the sound soft and sort of warm, like that scent of sunshine that seemed to follow her everywhere. It was an undercurrent beneath the sweetness of old tobacco and decaying wood. It was enough to make him want a cigarette, just to shoo the smell away so he wasn't tempted to wrap his fingers in her hair and pull her close enough to breathe it in some more.

"Patrol," Beth told him, making him look at her. She held up two loosely curled fingers. "Two men. Big. Automatic rifles and…" she trailed off for a second, then added, "Shit." She dropped the binoculars so that they hung around her neck, glaring across the field. "They're gone again. I couldn't see what else."

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, the most he let himself touch her right then. "They'll be back. We've got all night."

She side-eyed him. "Do we?"

He shrugged. "They send anybody out here, we lay low. Rick ain't sendin' anybody out after us till some time day after tomorrow if we don't get back. He'll give us tha' kinda time before he starts worryin'."

She hardly looked convinced, but she didn't say anything in response, other than to tell him, "Get some sleep."

Daryl snorted at her, but he wasn't going to argue. He'd learned how far that got him a long time ago. Instead, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. If he didn't sleep, he could run scenarios in his head, try and work out ways they could slip outta here if things went to hell. And he was betting at some point they were; everything went to hell anymore. It was just how it was. He didn't like it worth a damn, but he wasn't going to let it bite him in the ass if he could help it.

Beth was still and quiet at his side. What was that saying? Like a mouse in church? That fit about right. Small like a mouse, sweet like church should be. She sang sweet enough for church - tasted sweeter. His belly clenched as his mind tried to wander back to the last time he'd had her under his tongue and he frowned.

Christ, what was he, sixteen? Fucking felt like it, he thought, shifting on the loft floor. She made him feel all sorts of things, in all sorts of places. Some of them more uncomfortable than others. But in other ways, she was the closest thing he got to comfortable, to feeling like he was something that mattered. Not just because he was useful, but because he was  _there._ Oh yeah, she was sweet. Warmth and sunshine and so fucking  _good,_ in every sense of the word. His fingers twitched on the crossbow, itching to reach for her again. He ground his teeth. Not the goddamned time. Later, when shit wasn't hitting the fan. When they were in their room and he had her wrapped around him, all soft sugar and hot honey, like melting candy. Their room...he liked how that sounded, even if it was just in his own mind. Theirs. His.  _His_ girl.  _His_ Beth, calling  _his_ name when he-

Ah, fuck it.

Resigning himself that his head was going wherever the fuck it wanted to, Daryl gave up trying to fight it, deciding to just ride along. It was going to be a long night anyway, especially with temptation close enough that he could hear her gentle breathing. Hyper aware of each sound, each movement, he could even feel the warmth from her body like a caress against his side. So goddamned close, his brain was spinning all kinds of scenarios in his head, none of them all that productive to anything other than his libido. So much for that. No way in hell he was going to be doing anything remotely resembling sleep.

Yeah...fucking long night.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, woot! And one more day until the premiere! As always, thank y'all so much for the kind words and the amazing outpouring of love and support for this story. You guys just don't know how much every comment and kudo means to me. It never fails to brighten my day and inspire me. I know I say it often, but, truly, best readers EVER! :)

She could hear Daryl breathing slow and deep next to her, but Beth knew he wasn't asleep. Mostly because, every now and then, when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she caught the glint of his eyes in the dim light from outside. It made the line of her mouth pull downwards into a frown, her own irises narrowing at him when they flickered away from the view through the binoculars. There was a tightness in the line of his shoulders, the way they were hardly settled against the wall, like he was ready to spring up at the first creak of wind.

Biting back the resignation that tried to blow past her lips, she rummaged in the pack she'd set at her side, pulling out a piece of dried venison and biting off a piece. It was hard and without taste, but it was something. She chewed it at length, trying to work it into something soft enough to swallow without choking as she peered through the binoculars again. A fresh patrol rounded the truck to the far right, the third in the last two hours, their rifles thin black points that hung off to the their sides. They looked comfortable holding them, their heads turned towards one another, clearly talking between themselves. A little paranoid, but not so professional, she thought with a wry twist of her lips, and they'd be easily surprised if it came down to it. She could work with that.

She tracked them as they walked in front of the other trucks before disappearing around the hood of the one in front. Steady as clockwork so far. She was still unsure about what else they might be carrying. There were bulges coming off their backs, but in the dark, they were shapeless. Taking another bite off the end of the jerky, she reached out and rapped the back of her hand against Daryl's chest. She heard him grunt and waved her hand a little, indicating for him to take the strip of meat. If he wasn't going to sleep, he could at least eat something.

Another rough sound and it's weight vanished. Swiping her hand over her jeans, she lifted it to steady the binoculars, squinting a bit as she slid the focus wheel with her index finger.

"Nuthin' new," she told him without being asked, leaning forward slightly as she watched the outline of smoke thin and dissipate over the back of the middle truck. "Other than they seem t'be puttin' out their campfire."

"Think they ain't keen on drawin' walkers?" he responded, the words gruff as he worked them around a mouthful of jerky.

"They wouldn't have lit one in the first place if that was the case." She lowered the binoculars to look over at him. "So what're they doin'?"

"Fixin' t'move?" he guessed, shifting so that he was crouched beside her.

There wasn't a reply to that other than to wait and see if they started the trucks. Her hand dropped to the strap of her backpack, curling her fingers around it as she ducked her head to remove the binoculars. She gave them to him silently, scooting over so that he had room to see out of the crack. The floorboards groaned under her weight, making her grimace. She wrapped her other hand around the lower end of a rafter to be on the safe side.

The minutes ticked by sluggishly, punctuated by the old barn's cracking protests to the gusts picking up outside. Shadows fluttered over the walls, slithering and writhing through the branches outside like eels, swaying across Daryl's face like alternating swipes of a paintbrush. She watched the play of dark and light as the shades chased one another across his features, sharpening and then softening the lines around his eyes, his mouth, catching in his hair, then darting away. With effort, she pulled her distracted eyes from his expression back towards the field.

The trucks sat unmoving, their engines dead and cold. What were they doing, she asked herself again, straining to see any further hint of change to the landscape. It was when the next patrol came around the back of the last truck again that the breath she'd been holding was released in a whoosh.

"You see 'em?" Daryl asked her in a low voice, handing her the binoculars.

"Yeah," she muttered, stretching up to hopefully get a better angle. "Different guys again." She dropped the pair to dangle between her bent knees.

He hummed in acknowledgement scratching at his chin. "I'd bet the shirt on m'back tha' they got some kinda post out there. Big one."

"Question is how long they've been there," Beth said, catching a corner of her lip between her teeth, knowing it was what they were both wondering.

It was better to assume that they'd been camped out there for a long time, probably long enough to well observe the zone and its movements. Which also meant that there was a good possibility that they knew they'd been made already. No one with any amount of sense these days would have just taken the little messages they'd left on their doorstep and not at least try to find out where they'd come from. So they were pretty damn confident if they hadn't moved. Beth couldn't say she blamed them, if the number of people they had patrolling was any indication of their numbers. They had more than enough to spare. And with everyone armed, they had resources to spare as well. If it really was the same group they encountered in Picksville, she mused grimly, then they were looking at an army.

And if what they'd seen up there was anything to go by, Alexandria was going to turn into a slaughterhouse.

She didn't have to look at Daryl. She knew well enough that he didn't like it anymore than she did. But there must have been something in her expression, because his hand was suddenly in her hair, his fingers sliding through the strands and tugging lightly - reassurance. Her head tilted towards him and she purposefully exhaled another deep breath.

"Quit worryin'," he told her for the second time that night.

"I'm not," she replied, flicking her gaze towards his.

She really wasn't. She was figuring, trying to work out in her head what they could expect.

"Then quit thinkin' fer a minute," he shot back gruffly, his hand at the back of her head belying his harsh tone.

Beth snorted, but complied, focusing her attention back on the field. With one hand still holding onto the binoculars, she cupped her chin in the other, propping her elbow on her thigh.

"You know we're gonna have to get closer."

The fingers in her hair tightened a fraction. "Yeah."

They exchanged another look. The air around them abruptly felt heavy, weighted down by what they knew they were heading into and the potential consequences. But Beth couldn't blame neither the chill of autumn or that knowledge for the race of goosebumps that traveled up her arms. His eyes were black in the gloom and there was a tightness in his jaw, a range of emotions passing across his features and all of them made her want to close the distance between them, to offer what little she had to give to ease whatever thoughts were crossing his mind. It was harder to ignore that compulsion than it was to give into it, so wordlessly, she moved closer to him, kneeling between his thighs and pressed her mouth against his.

He responded immediately, tipping her head back as his other arm snaked around her middle. Her hands cradled his face, her nails lightly scratching against the scruff on his cheeks, enjoying the heat that rolled off of him. She could still taste the cigarette that he'd smoked on the porch, a faint taste of smoke that she loved. He kissed her insistently, his chapped lips rough and hard on her own, and she loved that too. His fingers tunneled through her hair, holding her fast as his other hand pressed her hips closer to the cradle of his. His heart beat against his ribs, hard enough that she could feel it echoing her own, a twin pulse that thrummed through her body, comforting, familiar and thrilling all at the same time. Everything that was good and  _right_ in her life, that made her feel like she had a place to belong in a world that made no sense, had her in his arms and heaven help her, she wanted to stay there. Even though she knew that she couldn't, not right then.

Beth parted from him just far enough to drop her forehead against his collarbone.

"You quit worryin'," she said when she found the breath to speak, her voice muffled against his shirt. She felt more than heard his answering chuff against the top of her head.

"I don't worry 'bout shit," he retorted, a thread of amusement in the words and it made her lips twitch.

She called him a liar in her head, but out loud, she just said, "Yeah."

Reaching up blindly, she pushed some of his hair back, a gentle touch. She gave herself a minute to breathe him in, leather and home and temptation, because  _Lord_ knew, she wanted him. She wanted to forget and make the persistent creeping thoughts in her head stop for a while. She wanted to feel and only feel, just for a few minutes. She wanted to give him that, to chase away the dark that always seemed to lurk in both their heads, whether they admitted it or not.

But they had work they needed to do. It was more than just the two of them. It always had been, even if it hadn't seemed like it those weeks they'd spent on their own in Georgia. So she pulled away completely, her reluctant fingers sweeping down his jaw before falling away. His stayed where they were, though, his eyes probing hers, gleaming with a wolfish hunger that made a shiver want to chase up her spine. Later, she promised herself. Later, when they were safe in their room and the world around them wasn't threatening to eat them alive. She covered the hand in her hair with her own and squeezed once, meeting his gaze with a hot one of her own, letting them reflect that promise. He made a low sound that beckoned something feral inside her to come out and play, that part of her that was nothing rational, and everything instinctive. And she really,  _really_ wanted to give in to that call. She  _needed_ to, as much as she needed anything else.

"C'mon," she found herself saying, twisting around to grab her backpack from off the floorboards.

Later, Beth reminded herself, firmly easing herself away from him as everything in her body demanded that she move towards him. She was damned sure going to make sure they had that later and she had a feeling that Daryl was going to hold her to it. Knowing that made the motions easier, if only just. She bit the inside of her cheek with a mild frown to the keep those words from admitting themselves out loud. They had no purpose. Why was it that it was only now that she was finding keeping silent so much more difficult than usual? It was a question for another night. Always another night, a voice chirped from the back of her mind and she ruthlessly squashed it as she climbed back down the ladder. She pushed all of the thoughts tumbling around in her skull away. If they made it through the night alive, she'd consider them then.

Another promise, and this one, she wasn't so sure she wanted to keep.


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I wasn't able to get an update to y'all on Sunday. My computer decided to have a fit. :/
> 
> It's late, but here it is and I hope you guys enjoy it! And on a side note, how about that premiere, huh? I feel so inspired by it, and I have all kinds of ideas of how to incorporate elements of the new season into Feral. Please let me know your thoughts on the latest chapters, the feedback is very much appreciated! :D

Wheat rustled against his clothes as he slunk through the stalks, his hands wrapped tightly around the stock of his crossbow. Just out of sight, he knew Beth was crouched, working her way in the opposite direction. He didn't much like it, not being able to keep track of her, but she knew what she was doing, so he tamped down on the tight ball of ice that tried to form in his stomach. Woman had a fucking talent for tying him up in knots without doing a damn thing.

It wasn't as quiet here. Between the wind and a soft crackle of what he figured was one, maybe two fires still lit, there was a constant undercurrent of noise that drowned out the gentler sound of katydids. There was a scuffle, rough like someone slid on gravel, and he froze, dropping lower beneath the cover the grain afforded. Even knowing better, it was a temptation to lift his head high enough to look towards the road, count how many bastards were walking the highway. A ripple in the grass next to him pulled his eyes to the right and he caught a quick glimpse of wide dark eyes watching him before they vanished in a wave of gold stalks and silvery blonde hair.

Daryl was hot on her heels, muttering a curse. She'd promised him she'd listen, a lifetime ago. She'd promised and she'd held true to it. But that didn't mean that it got any easier on his old heart watching her take a risk. The whole world was a fucking risk anymore - breathing, eating, closing your eyes for more than a couple of seconds. They both knew that. And it didn't change a damn thing in his mind. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't really give a shit whether she knew what she was doing or not. If there was a chance,  _any_ chance, that she wasn't going to make it home with him, well hell, that was the day he was going to put a bullet in his brain and let the world fuck itself. He knew it; knew it as well as he knew anything else. Probably was one of the handful of things he was damn certain of.

Whether he said it or not, Beth was one of those things too. Misgivings aside, she could take care of herself, with or without him. The fact she was even fucking  _alive,_  here with him after Atlanta was proof of that. Which was why he could ignore the crap stirring in the back of his skull and focus on the fucking task at hand. Merle's voice growling at him from back there was probably more of an incentive than he was willing to admit either.

Forcing himself to wait at least a beat before moving forward, Daryl dug the toes of his boots into the soggy ground, crushing long dried stems under his weight. As he shifted, his momentum spun them further into the dirt, caking the soles with clumps of black soil. He drug the tips of his fingers through it, swiping them across his cheeks as he quickly crept towards the ditch that divided the field from the road. The smell of earth was strong, nearly completely masking the scent of smoke that still hung in the air. He stopped just at the edge of the ditch, hunkering down to prop his elbow on his thigh, using the arm to steady his crossbow as he scanned the road through the sight.

It was still for several long minutes, cold stinging his lungs with every deep, even breath he drew in. The wind seemed to take a pause, stifling the constant brush of wheat stalks and making him aware of the sweat that was gathering at the base of his neck, causing his hair to cling damply. There was a soft rustling not far to his right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small, slender shape dart over the ditch, scurrying beneath one of the trucks and secreting itself in the shadows. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up slightly; sons of bitches weren't going to have a damn clue what hit them.

He didn't have to wait much longer, a team of two men already rounding the end of the furthermost truck. Their gazes focused on one another as they spoke in low tones, they paid little attention to their surroundings. Daryl trained his bow on the man walking closest to the ditch, slowly releasing his breath as he counted, watching. They passed the last truck, walking unhurriedly and murmuring between themselves, their hands barely maintaining a grip on their rifles, relying on nothing but moonlight to be able to see beyond their perimeter.

Fuckers weren't worried about shit. His scowl at their damn incompetence turned into another smirk as the dark under the second truck suddenly shifted, changing into a blur of silver as Beth slipped out from beneath the vehicle. With ridiculous ease, she caught the man on the inside of the pair around his mouth, silencing him with her hand and the knife she slid into the base of his skull. And before the fool beside her could do more than gawk, a bolt slammed into the side of his head, killing him where he stood.

Beth grabbed him before he could drop, lowering both corpses down to the ground noiselessly, already patting down their pockets for anything useful. Daryl hopped across the ditch, bow in hand as he dropped into a crouch beside her. Without a word, she handed him a pair of walkie talkies, shrugging her pack forward over her shoulder and shoving two spare clips she'd scavenged. One of the men'd had a pistol tucked into a shoulder holster and she took that too, giving it to Daryl, who shoved it into the waistband of his pants. Finding little else salvageable, they rolled the bodies carefully into the ditch.

He reached out and gave a light tug on the sleeve of her sweater, making her turn towards him. When she looked up at him, he put his knuckles against her jaw, his thumb cradling her chin as he tilted her head to the side.

"Good?" he asked her quietly and she nodded as he wiped his hand over a small streak of blood that'd gotten on her cheek, smearing it more than cleaning it away.

She watched him with those doe eyes of hers, a look in them that mingled the woman he remembered from Georgia and the one he had seen in the mountains. Fucking sunshine and steel. Why the hell no one else seemed to see it, he didn't get. She was a goddamned force of nature when she wanted to be. Maybe it was because she tried to be what everyone needed back then, something to protect, keep safe, whether she needed anyone to or not. Maybe it was just a fucking instinctive thing. Maybe she inspired that in people. Shit, maybe no one wanted to see anything else. Christ knew, he wanted to do that too.

Not that he'd been able to, Merle viciously reminded him. Pussy whipped asshole, chasin' tail when ya need t'get shit done. S'why ya couldn't keep that bitch from shootin' yer woman in the goddamned head. Too fucking busy worryin' who'd put a hand on tha' sweet little ass.

Bullshit, he shot back with a mental snarl. Wasn't like you could get within a yard of anythin _'_ with a pulse without someone screamin' for the cops. Fuckin' face like tha', not even Ma could love ya.

Ain't like she lost any sleep worryin' over you neither, little brother, Merle sneered. Only one that gave a shit was me and look what tha' got me. Buzzards probably still pickin' me clean outta tha' 2 inch hole you called a fuckin' grave. Didn't even carve a cross or nuthin', just left me there rottin', motherfucker.

"I'm good, Daryl," she said softly, pulling him out of his head and away from his brother's mocking.

Yes you fucking are, he thought, too fucking good for a piece of crap like me. He didn't say it out loud though. It'd just piss her off, or worse, make her give him one of those hurt looks that made his insides twist up. Dropping his hand from her face, he dipped his head in a short nod before ticking it towards the trucks. She followed the silent prompt, pausing just long enough to clean both sides of her knife in the weeds before she hunkered down next to the massive front wheel of the vehicle she'd hidden under. He took the back, edging around the bumper until he could see past the truck's bulk.

Wasn't much to look at. The trees on the other side of the road were deep and dark, whatever they held hidden behind a blackness that the wane moonlight just couldn't penetrate. Couldn't hear much either, aside from something that pricked at his ears, something quiet, reverberating. He angled his head and whistled softly, causing Beth to peer over her shoulder. He pointed at the side of his head, cocking it. You hear that?

She nodded and gestured around the front of the truck. Not waiting for his response, she ducked around the hood and vanished. He followed her, coming around the opposite side and they both skidded across the highway and into the far ditch. Scrambling up the other side, he gave her a hand up, trying to ignore the way her smaller fingers squeezed around his and what that might mean, to her or to him. He'd dealt with enough shit in his head for one night.

They moved into the woods, Beth veering off to the right while Daryl went more to the left, sweeping away from one another in a small arc. The sound grew in volume and pitch, loud enough that it became distinct and even in this gloom, she caught his eye as they slowed, listening. He felt his stomach plummet.

Walkers. A shit ton of them.

His mouth went dry.

He watched her slid her revolver out of her back pocket, keeping it tight against her thigh as they started again, heading for the sound. A fucking herd this close to the zone was a goddamned death sentence. Nothing'd be left. It was knowledge that had him damn near hurtling through the trees. Nobody could hear shit anyway over all that racket, especially not two people's steps rustling over dead leaves. He couldn't even hear it. Beth angled her path so that she ended up trotting beside him, fighting to keep up with his longer strides as they pushed through thorn vines and thick underbrush, hurrying. The woods brightened, turned yellow and brown under the glow of artificial lights that were burning not far ahead of them.

Suddenly the earth gave way from under their feet and Daryl grunted as he stumbled, dropping his crossbow as he caught himself on all fours. Beth went to her knees beside him, her hand clenched into a fist around the hem of his jacket. Shaking his head roughly, he lifted it up, shoving aside a screen of underbrush to look down into a sea of writhing bodies, the sound from their decaying throats deafening. He felt Beth's hand release his jacket to grab his shoulder tight enough that her blunt nails were digging into his flesh.

Jesus Christ, they were fucked.


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading and continuing to support Feral! :D

They needed to run. Every instinct Beth  _had_ was screaming at her to pick up her feet and move, but it was like she was standing in cement. Her throat was closed, coated in sand as she stared, wide eyed and unblinking in the harsh light. The handle of her knife was digging into her palm, her grip on it as tight as the one she had on Daryl's shoulder, a dull ache pricking her nails as they dug into his jacket.

Good God, there had to be hundreds of them. Bumping and stumbling into one another, hardly discernable as individuals as they shuffled and banged themselves against the twin sets of 18-wheelers that served as blockades. It made what little warmth was left in her blood evaporate into ice - steel sheets that might as well have been paper were the only things keeping them in. How long before they gave? How long before the gravel walls she and Daryl were kneeling on gave? They were already crumbling, the combination of constant motion against them and the heavy rains wore away at the rocks. Dust was heavy in the air, thick enough to breathe in and rattle around in her lungs like rough-edged pebbles, forcing her to cough.

The sound was lost in the din from below, but it seemed like the man beside her heard it, his head whipping towards her as he pushed himself up to one knee. The look on his face made her insides suddenly feel hollow. The panic and fear that was almost choking her was plain in the tight set of his features. Her pulse was thundering triple time in her throat as they stared at one another, hardly daring to breathe.

Then they were moving, contrasting pale and dark blurs skirting along the edge of the quarry. Alarm was replaced with milder apprehension as she cut off the thoughts buzzing in her head like flies, yanking on her awareness until it was only split between the rhythm of her body's movements and those of the walkers below them. Skidding on stones that might as well have been marbles underfoot, she slammed her hand out and grabbed the slender branches of a sapling, its trunk snapping down under her weight as she caught her balance. Rocks bounced down the side of the quarry unnoticed by the dead as she dropped into a crouch. Daryl was a little ways ahead of her, watching the scene below them as he stood next to a tree, his hand curled around the strap of his crossbow.

The pit of Beth's stomach swooped as she followed his line of vision and her muscles tensed almost painfully with the need to bolt back towards the walls of the zone as fast as she could. Safety was a shrieking wail at the back of her skull, thumping in time with the slam of her heartbeat, even though in the more logical part of her mind she knew that there was nowhere safe from a herd this size. They'd trample everything in their path; buildings, cars, people, entire swaths of woods - there'd be nothing left.

Was this the herd that they'd encountered on the road back? She gnawed on one corner of her bottom lip, unable to taste the hot copper her teeth drew from the tender flesh as she pondered the likelihood of the question. It was possible. In the dark, it had been hard to tell just how large that herd had been, although the devastation they'd left in their wake had been a damn good indication of their numbers. And it would have only grown with time. That was the one advantage they had over the living - no matter how many they killed, there would always be at least three more to take their place. A fact of life anymore.

Beth raised her eyes to glance at Daryl again and found him watching her. She tilted her head towards the walkers and his dipped once. He'd probably had the same thought cross his mind too. It wasn't a hard leap to make. She dropped her gaze from his back down again, staring at the trucks that'd blocked off each end of the quarry. Blindly fumbling in the bag she'd slid around to her hip, she pulled out the binoculars and carefully scooted down so that she was on her stomach, ignoring the stones digging into her belly. After she was certain that the lenses wouldn't create a glare from under the trees' shade, she lifted them up to get a better look.

Tire tracks were still visible in the dirt and gravel, trailing up the slopes that led out of the quarry. The treads themselves were pretty clean, bits of rock and debris stuck in the grooves of the rubber, but they lacked the layer of dust that seemed to cover everything else, including the massive lights that'd been placed around the top of the pit. Her pulse began to slow as she mentally cataloged her observations. The trucks had been recently placed. Had the walkers been too? Or had they been trapped by something else? She angled the binoculars left, slowly sweeping towards the right as she looked for anything that stood out. That was when she caught the glint of metal on the far side. Her finger spun the focal wheel, zeroing in on that tiny flash, and she spotted movement.

Another patrol. This must have been why they had so many. It was a wide stretch of territory to cover. And they hadn't broken their stride either, so no one must have seen or noticed the two they'd left in the ditch. That didn't give them much time, but it was better than nothing. She swung the binoculars further to the right, squinting past the bright shine of the lights. A trailer squatted near the far slope, partily concealed behind bushes that nearly rivaled the smaller pines in height. Under the artificial beams, the rust that ran in rivulets was stark against its peeling whitewash. The interior was dark, but that didn't mean much; probably flicked off to make it easier to see out.

A soft whistle from her right had her putting the binoculars down slightly, resting her elbows on the hard ground as she looked over. Daryl jerked his head in the direction behind him and she gave him a slight nod, shifting so that she could hold up her hand, the fingers spread. She wasn't giving him more than five minutes, not when she had no idea what route those patrols were taking. It was barely enough time to even get a lay of the land, but it was all she was willing to let him risk. She trusted her instincts - they needed to get back...quickly.

Beth watched him go, swallowing down the need to go with him and instead putting the binoculars back up to her eyes. Gather what little she could, here, that was what he needed her to do. It was the fucking reason they were even out here. So she could grit her teeth and do her damn job, because that was what was going to get them home in one piece and keep them that way.

Admittedly, there wasn't much else to look for. As far as she could tell, there wasn't any other type of base or encampment close to the quarry. Likely they'd set up either further west or north, off the zone's radar and upwind of the walkers. Hardly anyone came this way to her knowledge. There wasn't much reason to. The closest town had been twenty miles away, and picked clean well over a year ago. Larger and more well-stocked areas were east, heading towards the coast and out of the foothills.

A sound from behind her caused her to freeze, the binoculars still held up against her face. She listened, concentrating on what she could have heard over the constant drone of the walkers. It'd been fairly loud, a crack? Like a twig snapping. Her brain was putting the pieces together faster than she could make sense of them.

Sharp, hard, loud, close.

 _Footstep_.

Within the time it took the equipment to hit the ground, her palms had slammed into the ground, catapulting herself up into a crouch. Her hand swiped across her belt, flinching slightly as fresh scraps closed around the hilt of her knife. Drawing it, she twisted her torso, her arm shooting out with a vicious slash, aiming for about knee height on an average person. If she could take out their legs, she could immobilize them, and then it was only a matter of seconds to incapacitate them completely. The blade struck polished wood so hard, the vibration ran up her arm with the force of a four-wheeler slamming into a tree, making her drop the knife with a hiss of pain. Her head jerked up, her mouth pulled back in a snarl as she tensed to spring to the side and out of the way of the blow she knew was coming down to crack across her skull, when she saw the eyes.

Feverish, dark, maybe even more than a little mad.

Cradling her hand close to her middle, she bowed her body over it, clenching and unclenching her fingers to drive away the stinging numbness. There was a rough chuckle over her head and it wasn't much of a struggle to let go long enough to lift her good hand up and flip the voice off with a low growl.

"That long-haired guy's rubbin' off on ya."

Beth was grateful her hair was long enough and thick enough to hide the angry flush in her cheeks as she snapped, "Go to hell, Morgan."

She angled her head to peer up through the unruly strands and noted with a scowl that her rescuer from so many months ago was looking down at her with an expression that was somewhere between amused and not entirely there.

"Liked you better when ya didn't talk."

She made a humming noise in her throat and slowly climbed to her feet, swaying slightly before she caught her balance. Shaking out the ache in her hand, she bent down to scoop up her knife from the rocky ground. Daryl was probably rubbing off on her more than she'd realized, because the first thing that came out of her mouth when she opened it was a curse foul enough to make her tongue burn. To her irritation, it only made the older man grin at her for a split second before his face fell into that detached mask she'd long grown used to.

"Y'all got trouble," he said simply, wrapping both hands around his walking stick.

Beth the anger bleed out of her in one whoosh of breath, turning slightly to look back down into the quarry, her bottom lip disappearing apprehensively between her teeth. That block of ice was back in her stomach as her gaze slid towards the trailer that was barely visible across the gap.

Her voice was soft as she said, "Yeah."


	68. Chapter 68

It was fucking bullshit.

"Daryl."

He growled at the petite blonde softly saying his name, but he didn't stop his pacing. The loft was a blur of white and black, the moonlight that filtered through the cracks splashing over the walls. The floorboards creaked dangerously under his weight, a warning he almost dared the old structure to take him up on.

"Daryl."

His mouth pulled back into a sneer as he glanced at Beth from under his lank hair, catching sight of wide blue eyes surrounded by a sea of silver, features fixed and quiet like carved marble. He watched her pale lips part, heard the words, but just let them wash by him as he strode to the other end of the small space.

"You know he's right."

"Fuckin' crazy ass bastard's half out of his head. I ain't taken anythin' he says for shit," he muttered, letting the thoughts running around in his skull out into the open.

Even without looking at her, he could picture the tilt of her brows as she stared at his back. "The crazy ass bastard's the one that got me out of the trunk of tha' car," she pointed out in that quiet voice of hers.

His fingers curled tight around the butt of his crossbow as he swung around to look at her. Her expression was solemn - no accusations, no suspicions. Didn't change the feeling of the guilty churn in his gut. But instead of addressing it, he just turned his back to her, stalking back across the loft. He could feel her gaze on him like a physical weight, patient. He'd let it out eventually. Even he knew that. Didn't mean that he liked knowing that anymore than he liked being stuck in this goddamned deathtrap waiting for however fucking long it took for Morgan to get to the zone and back. And he _still_ didn't get the logic in that. It'd boiled down to what he'd trusted the damn fool to do more, and it wasn't keeping an eye on shit here when the whole place blew to hell. Which was fucking inevitable. At best, they had till daylight before those bodies were found. Even a blind man would notice the buzzards.

Daryl still hadn't made up his mind if they were lucky or not that there hadn't been anyone in that trailer overlooking the quarry. Probably figured that there wasn't anyone stupid enough to get that close to a herd, much less with the number of people they had constantly walking the perimeter. If they'd done any sort of scouting of Alexandria, and there was no fuckign doubt that they had, they had damn good reasons to be confident. Outside of the their group, hardly anyone in those walls knew how to defend themselves against anything, living or dead.

Prey, plain and simple.

As he passed Beth for the umpteenth time, she reached out, the gentle pressure of her palm pressing against his chest as she stepped out in front of him more effective than a brick wall. He looked down into her upturned face, those cornflower irises watching him with a mixture of concern and exasperation, and he felt something tight spring loose, the tautness in his muscles snapping like a chord. Letting out a hard breath, he leaned his head down and put his forehead against hers, his free hand coming up to slide through her hair.

"M'bein' stupid," he mumbled, as close to an apology as he was going to get for the things he couldn't bring himself to admit. And he knew that he _was_ being stupid. His pride had been pricked and it made him act like a jackass, hurling crap at the closest target without a goddamned thought spared for whether or not it hurt her in the process.

Beth didn't respond other than to slip her hand up to cup his jaw. Her fingers were cold and smooth as they stroked through the scruff that covered his cheek. Slowly, her eyelashes fell against the soft paleness of her cheek, then fluttered open again. She didn't have to say anything. With that tiny movement, Daryl knew that she got it; she got everything he was trying to say. There was neither judgement or reprimand. Just Beth. Which was a fucking miracle, because he didn't even know what he wanted to tell her half the time, not when it came to something important. Hell, when was the last time he'd even talked to her about something important? When they were up in the that cabin in the mountains maybe, when he'd gotten her to open up about her injuries.

Unconsciously, his eyes flicked up to the small round scar on her forehead as he pulled back slightly. Letting his crossbow gently thump onto the floor, he touched the tip of his thumb against the still shiny skin, feeling its odd texture. Speaking of a damned miracle, he thought ruefully, his eyes casting down the contours of her face, to the poorly stitched scar that curved along her cheekbone. It was like a teardrop that'd been cast sideways, the jagged edges where the needle had passed visible and raised. Then he touched the other one, thinner and less pronounced where it slashed across her brow, his thumbs tracing them both as his palms cradled her jaw. It was a strange mixing of possessiveness and guilt that struck him as he stared down at her. They felt as though they were his scars. Weren't they, in a way? How many of them had she gotten because of him, his actions, or the lack of them? How many times had his girl been marked? How many were there that he couldn't see?

How many of them couldn't he fix?

Beth went perfectly still under his exploratory touch, watching his features as if she were looking for clues about what he was thinking. She looked so tiny and fragile, like a china doll that his mother had kept in a tiny cabinet in their trailer, the one thing his old man hadn't dared to break. Jeanie Dixon put up with a lot of shit, but she'd have seen her husband stone dead if he'd even laid a finger on the little pieces of junk she'd so lovingly put in a place of honor, right next to that shitty television the two of them fought over every night. Daryl had spent more time than he could have counted staring at those knickknacks, wondering what the hell was so special about them that they'd deserve the care and attention that his mother had never given to her sons. Except that doll. That one, even as a kid, he could understand, at least a little. With a blue silk dress that matched its luminous eyes and white blonde curls that framed the face of an angel, it'd been something beautiful in that hell house.

Kinda like pretty little Beth Greene with her sunshine hair and her summer scent; something beautiful and sweet in the middle of the fucking apocalypse. And somehow, she'd found him twice. She was a break in the storm, warm and so goddamned good that it made something in his chest ache. The way she looked, all doe eyes and gentle features and acceptance.

"Daryl," she called to him softly and he watched the way her lips seemed to curl around his name and all he wanted to do was taste it on her tongue, see if it was as sweet as she made it sound.

The way she was looking at him, like he was worth something, like nothing was wrong with him, like she wanted him right where he was...how the hell was he supposed to ignore that? He didn't think he could. Because he wanted his head to shut the fuck up. Because he wanted to wipe away the crap that made his gut churn. Because he wanted her to know just how damn much it meant to him that she was there, that she gave a damn about him.

So he didn't.

It was a relief to press his mouth against hers, doubly so when she didn't hesitate to respond, welcoming him. Stretching onto her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, curling her body up into his. One hand fisting in the thick strands of her hair, the other slid down the curve of her torso to wrap around her waist, anchoring her against him as he parted her lips hungrily. Jesus H Christ, she tasted fucking amazing, all honey and heat and _his,_ and knowing that made his heart trip in its beat. His fingers tightened their grip at the back of her neck, blonde tendrils flowing like coarse water. She shuddered against him, a tiny mewling sound escaping her and suddenly he was harder than he had ever been in his goddamned life.

He broke away with effort, pulling her closer to him with a low snarl and tugging her head back so that he could map the line of her neck. He nipped at the tender skin, enjoying the push of her hips when his teeth scraped over the pulse point jumping at the base of her throat. He glimpsed her eyes as her head fell to the side, watching that wildness that always lurked just beneath the vibrant blue bleed into them, making them brighter, sharper almost. Just like that, the sweetness in her demeanor evaporated, a matching growl reverberating against his mouth as she raked her short nails over his scalp, tunneling her fingers roughly through his hair. The smile she gave him was wolfish when he lifted his head to catch her lips again, groaning when she bit his lower lip before soothing it with a swipe of her tongue.

He had her backed up against the wall before he knew he'd moved, his hand dropping from her waist to run along the curve of her torso, down to squeeze the soft swell of her bottom as one kiss blended into another and another. He held the back of her head with a much gentler grip, keeping her from banging into the old wooden slats as he ground himself against her. He couldn't breath, could barely think as she rolled her hips up into his, her hands seeming like they were everywhere as she rocked with him, the need between them an all-consuming fire that was racing through his veins, spiraling low in his belly and stealing what little air he had left in his lungs.

Daryl felt her tugging on the hem of his shirt, snaking her way underneath it to drag her fingertips up his stomach, over his ribs, making the muscles clench and dance beneath her touch. His head was spinning and he sucked in a breath as pulled away to lick a taunting trail from the top of his collar to the sensitive skin just under his ear.

"Holy shit," he cursed with another groan, dropping his forehead to her shoulder and pressing his lips to whatever skin he could reach as her hands continued to explore without an ounce of shyness.

He didn't rightly know why he'd expected her to be. She never had been, not with him. There'd been times, a lifetime ago it seemed, when she'd been painfully polite, maybe even a little intimidated. Scared of his temper and pissed off as all hell, but she'd never been timid about expressing what she was thinking, what she felt. It was there, always, if he ever cared to look for it. Even when she hadn't remembered anything but his name, when her expressions had been closed to everyone, including him, he'd only asked and she'd tried her damnedest to tell him. It was in the way she moved now, her heart beating so hard he could feel it against his own where she pressed against him and her mouth hot honey where it met his again, the way his name was a whisper that she breathed into his skin, branding him. She wanted him, wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

And that blew his goddamned mind.

The floor could have caved out from under him and he wouldn't have given a flying fuck. The only thing that mattered was her, his Beth, right here, with her hair like spun sunshine turned silver tangled between them and slide of her skin under his hands as he smoothed his palm under her sweater, cupping the small sweet weight of her breast, its tip pebbling under the roll of his thumb. His world had narrowed down to her. She was everything - summer and sugar and warmth.

She was home.

The realization hit him so hard he actually hissed in a breath, jerking away from where he'd been sucking on her collarbone and staring at the bright red mark he'd left there. He pulled his eyes up, to look into hers and he swallowed at the darkened haziness of them, trying to wrap his brain around too many things at one time.

"Beth, I..." he trailed off, his voice gruff and hoarse as he worked on reining in the arousal that was still thundering through him. It wasn't easy when she was licking her lips, swollen and a dusky pink, and beckoning him with those bedroom eyes of hers. He opened his mouth again, tried to pull some kind of logic out of some working part of his mind but then her hands were on his belt buckle and that pretty much sent what little blood was still in his head straight south.

Lifting one from its dangerous location, she wrapped her small fingers around his wrist, pulling him easily to the button of her jeans, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles.

"Daryl...please."

Well damn, how was he supposed to refuse that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK guys, I have a question.
> 
> I recently received a bit of feedback that, while mostly positive, did mention that they felt as though the story was beginning to seem dragged out. Even with all of the absolutely overwhelming love and support Feral has garnered over the course of this year, it still struck a cord with me, as it's been a concern for a little while. Do y'all feel the same, that things are getting dragged out? Please let me know your thoughts in your comments. If you'd rather leave an anonymous comment, that's fine, I would just very much appreciate some feedback. Things are starting to wind down and we're closing in on the finish line, but there's still going to be a stretch before we get there.
> 
> Another thought that's been weighing on me a bit is that a reader sent me a message some time ago saying that they wished there was less story and more smut. I love bethyl smut as much as the next person, but I just wanted to take a small bit of space to address what this person brought up. I can totally understand their frustration about the lack of sexy times between Daryl and Beth, but I have to stand up for myself and this fic a little bit here. Yes, it's a romance and much of the focus is on the relationship between these two characters, but what I wanted to do when I started this fic, more than anything, was to take a chance to tell their journey, to tell their STORY. They have so many issues, justifiable ones, between them that it makes it difficult for either of them to reach out, even to one another. Over the course of the show, and this fic, we've seen them grow closer, grow to understand one another better. In my personal head cannon, this is the first relationship, real adult relationship, that either one of them have had. It isn't something you can jump into, and although I know that this story has grown to huge, lengthy proportions with very little in terms of the physical interactions that we all relish, I feel like they've become so incredibly intimate on other levels. The way they've learned to communicate with one another, how they've grown to be able to touch one another, speaks volumes, at least in my mind. As long as this story had gotten, up until this point, with the events that I'd orchestrated for the plot line, I still felt like the romantic moments had to be sparing. The world is constantly throwing things at them, things that require their attention, and taking time out to have a make out session in some closet somewhere, while potentially hot, takes away from the overall story I'm trying to tell. And that's sort of my point in this rambling, lol. I'm writing a story, not a one shot, or even a series of one shots (although the thought has crossed my mind). And that means that things happen in their own time, when its important for the characters.
> 
> That being said, there is smut in this chapter, and while I wrote it in part because I do want to satisfy my readers, I also wrote it because it FELT right to me. This is an instance where we can see Daryl and Beth connect further. To the reader that sent me that message, please don't feel as though I'm calling you out or complaining that you expressed your opinion to me. I welcome constructive thoughts, whether they've critical or otherwise, because it can only help me improve as a writer. I just wanted to better explain, to you and to everyone, what I'm doing and why. I hope it makes sense and please forgive me for the super long note this chapter, and for leaving it there. But this deserves to be enjoyed from both perspectives, right? Hopefully content made up for it. :)
> 
> As always, thank y'all so much for reading this story and for the love, support, and encouragement!


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all of the feedback for the last chapter, and for 'Feral' as a whole! I could have fallen out of my chair in surprise at how overwhelming it was! It was so inspiring, and honestly heart-warming, to see that huge outpouring of love and support! Y'all have always shown that, but just the sheer magnitude of it last chapter, especially after I'd received some negativity was extremely touching. My poor husband thought I'd had something horrible happen since I was teary-eyed, but it really meant a lot to me. I'm going to keep going in the direction I want to move with this story and my hope is that y'all will still have faith in me and in 'Feral' as we move into the final act.
> 
> Again guys, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I never would have gotten this far without y'all. :)

As much as Beth wanted him to move, as much as he seemed to want to move, Daryl stayed frozen in place, his hand just where she'd placed it.

She'd wanted that look on his features to go away. The one that was so full of suspicion and doubt. It made Daryl's eyes squint and narrow, flattened his mouth into a hard, unforgiving line, and it filled his eyes with something that made her heart hurt. It was why she'd stopped him, to pull him back from wherever it was that his mind had gone, or to find out where it'd gone. He'd been mad as hell, but what she couldn't figure out was where he was aiming it. She figured it was partially at Morgan, and that she got.

She understood his trepidation, and his mistrust. He didn't know Morgan like she did. He'd never had the opportunity. In hindsight, maybe that wasn't a bad thing. If she'd known how events were going to unfold, maybe she would have made different choices. Maybe not. Those that she did hadn't altered her steps that far. She'd still found her way here, back to him. The thought crossed her mind that maybe she was supposed to. Maybe whatever power existed that brought the world to the cruel, brutal point it existed in now, maybe it had some leniency too. Or maybe she was just damned lucky. Or hardheaded. She wouldn't count either of those out.

What she couldn't put her finger on was what else he was angry about. It was like telling him that Morgan had gone ahead had triggered something else, something he either didn't want to admit or didn't know how. But before she could ask him anything, he'd let it go and kissed her and that had well and truly put most thoughts clear out of her mind. She wasn't made of stone and neither was he.

Daryl would have said she was thinking too much now, but he was so far in his own head right then that she'd have imagined it would have been like the pot calling the kettle black. Even with his hand resting almost gingerly on the button that held her jeans closed, there was a quality in his gaze that was unfocused and unsure, as if he was still wrestling internally with something. He looked so lost, like he just didn't know what to do in that moment, looking down, but not at her. He was looking  _through_ her, at something she couldn't see. And that expression came back. It didn't dissipate when she slid her hand back to his face, feeling the heat in her veins subside a little. Just like that, the air had changed between them, losing its tension and heaviness, although she wondered if he was aware of it right then.

It was so easy to get lost in that place between them. It was so easy to  _forget_  where there was a place that wasn't made up of  _just_ them. Where there was nothing but hot skin under rough palms and heartbeats that thrummed in time. If she could, she'd stay there. It was selfish as all hell, but she wasn't so naive to believe that she was a good enough person to be completely selfless anymore. She hadn't been for a long time, even before the bullet. What little remained in this day and time had fairly quickly beat it out of her. You take enough from a person, it changes them, right down to the core. She'd seen it enough. Her daddy, her sister, Rick, Carol, Daryl...none of them were the same. How could they be?

"Daryl?"

She watched his pulse jump and his eyes snap to hers, startled by her voice, soft as it was. The need to sweep away that look rose up inside her again, swelling with the butterflies that were still swirling in the pit of her belly as he twisted his hand under hers so that their fingers linked. With a shuddering breath, he let his head fall back onto her shoulder, his face turned into the hollow of her neck. Reflexively, she brought her other hand up to stroke through his hair, shifting just enough that her cheek could rest against his. For a moment, she closed her eyes and just breathed, relishing each expanse of her lungs. Cigarettes and leather filled her nose again, like it did every time. The evidence of his arousal no longer poked her belly, which she was mildly disappointed about. Making love with Daryl was the most intensely powerful thing she'd ever experienced in her young life. Her fumbling attempt with Zach in the back of the library at the prison couldn't even come close. Slightly painful and awkward, it'd been a learning experience, and a moment between two people who needed a release and somewhere safe for a little while. The fact that'd been the extent of it caused a small stab of guilt in her chest. She might not have loved Zach, but he'd been kind to her, and very affectionate, something that Beth hadn't been sure she'd ever feel again in the world they lived in.

She suppressed a shudder, not allowing her mind to think too much about what that would actually be like with someone she cared for as much as the man that was holding her now.

"Quit worryin'," she said quietly, breaking the silence and altering the path of her thoughts. She felt the hard puff of air under her ear as he snorted.

"Turnin' into a fuckin' mantra tonight," he replied in a dry tone, shuffling his feet as his hand released hers, his arms snaked around her back and lifting her away from the wall.

Standing on her tiptoes, Beth wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could, her fingers barely meeting at the base of his spine. He was so much bigger than her, but somehow, it didn't make her feel all that small, at least not that often. Daryl made her feel like she was on equal footing. It was one of the reasons she'd never minded being with him all that time in Georgia, after the prison. He could be the world's biggest jackass when he wanted to, but he'd never been one to treat her like she was made of glass. If she were being completely honest with herself, she liked that he was rough with her in some ways. He wasn't hiding who he was. He never had. Daryl was Daryl and he never tried to be anything else.

"I'd promised myself we'd do this later," he mumbled into her neck, his palm sliding up the curve of her spine to rest again in her hair, giving it a light tug.

For the first time in recent memory, Beth found her mouth curving into a smile, a motion that felt utterly foreign, unfamiliar. When was the last time anything had made her smile? Really smile? Not a bitter twist of her lips or a slight quirk at the corners?

"Me too," she replied, slipping back down onto her heels so that she could look up into his features, tracing them in the dimness. His hand tightened, pulling the strands at the base of her neck taut as he stared down at her.

His voice was rough, thick as he searched her features. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Daryl's thumb brushed across the scar on her cheek again, outlining its shape and the expression on his features shifted, from one of mild satisfaction, maybe even pleasure, to something that was reminiscent of that other look, his eyes going distant. She caught his hand and held it against her jaw, felt the fingers curl into a loose fist where it rested. He was leaping from one thing to another so quickly it was hard to keep up.

"Daryl," she said firmly, secretly relieved to see his gaze sharpen. She adjusted her grip, letting her short nails dig just a little into the back of his knuckles. "Stop."

He scowled at her and she let him go without a fight, voluntarily taking a step back to give him room as he moved past her to start pacing again. When he got to the far end of the loft, he turned sharply on his heel, stalking back up to her, his jaw clenching as he canted his head away from her scrutiny to glare at the wide crack that split the third wall from roof to floorboard. Beth crossed her arms beneath her breasts and waited, trailing his line of sight. She could nearly hear the gears in his head turning, trying to both figure out how to talk to her and how not to simultaneously. No, he didn't hide who or what he was, but that didn't mean that sharing it was easy. Especially if he wasn't sure about something.

Deciding it was best to drop it, until they were back in the safe zone anyways, Beth slowly and carefully picked her way towards the fracture in the wood, her emotions as jumbled as the memories that she kept at bay. Unwilling to sort either out, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, grateful that all she could smell right then was damp decay. To have caught even a whiff of anything else would have sent her straight back to him to pour everything out. Maybe that was a sign that she needed to let all of it out, her memories, the half-dreamt songs floating between them and all of the feelings that surged under them. Ruefully, she admitted to herself that at least when the pieces were broken, it was easier to keep them in line. Daryl didn't need her to be anything but capable right at that moment. She didn't need to be anything but capable. Survive, she told herself. The rest would work itself out later, or it wouldn't. He'd tell her in his own time, or he wouldn't. It wasn't anything to dwell on, not until the shit storm had passed.

But when it did, she decided,  _then_  they were going to have a long talk. She had no idea when, or what it was going to all be about, but things couldn't keep going like this - undefined, vague, shapeless and aimless. It wasn't healthy and although he knew her better than anyone, better than she knew herself, there were things that needed saying. Soundly, she tamped down on the roiling in her mind, tucking it away as if she were putting away her gun, ignored until needed, comfortable with its weighty presence.

And all in a few blinks.

Daryl's bulk was a warmth at her back, solid as his hand found its way under the mass of her hair and squeezed her neck, a wordless reassurance that, whatever it was going on in his brain, it didn't have to do with her.

"I don't trust him," he muttered near her ear.

"I know," she said simply.

"That' don't bother you?"

"You ain't got a reason t'trust him."

He grunted, the sound agreeable. His hand slid down to ghost along the curve of her spine, settling on her hip. Another promise. A dangerous one; as dangerous as the promise they'd made to themselves, because they both knew that they couldn't really promise later. He could promise her what he felt. He couldn't promise her that he could ever say it. She knew that too.

"He gonna give me one?" he asked her, his tone dour.

"Yes." She was sure of that. Morgan was one of the very few people that she was sure about, unbalanced or not.

Beth turned her head and stretched up to pass her lips over the hinge of his jaw, letting her forehead rest against his throat for a brief second, mutual solace. Daryl made a low sound that she felt more than heard, his arm sliding to wrap around her middle. For a fleeting moment, she let herself be there, just one more minute, with the heat an undercurrent still between them and the beat of his heart a steady thud against her back. Then his mouth was against her ear.

"Stay here. Gonna take watch on the other side."

And he was gone, replaced with a cool autumn breeze that made her shiver. Maybe it was habit, or maybe it was the need to indulge in something that had once given her a sense of consolation, but she said a silent prayer. Too much was happening that was out of their control. Too many factions were at play and not enough of them were favorable. They needed time, they needed luck, and they needed more firepower. They could only get one of those things on their own. The rest would be a damn miracle and they were short on those anymore. It was riskier than making a promise, but Beth hung on to the hope that there was a chance, even a slim one, that someone was up there still listening. Right at that moment, it was all the hope she had to spare.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys so much for reading, and for the love and support! :)

The first one happened just as the sun was starting to come up.

Daryl'd propped himself near the far corner of the loft, keeping his word. Beth had curled up where he'd left here, grabbing the sleep that'd eluded him before. At least one of them was. He'd been trying not to think too much all night, or what'd been left of it. Between the woman across from him and the shit going on around them, he figured he was damn lucky that he knew up from down. What he didn't know, was what the hell was going on with him.

Cut the feelings crap, his brother grumbled from out of the dark. You turnin' inta a right pussy.

It was easier to just not argue with the bastard, so Daryl ignored him, a trick he'd learned to perfect at a very young age. Just go with whatever the older Dixon said and keep your mouth shut. Fightin' with him sure as hell hadn't gotten him far here lately.

He'd hardly admitted it to himself when he heard it.

It was distant, but damn clear. Scream like that meant somebody'd found something right upsetting - usually a body. Daryl grunted, switching his crossbow from his right hand to his left, bracing the newly free one on the beam just above his head as he peered through the crack, straining to see past the corner of the barn. Another shout cut the air, mingling with words that he couldn't make out, but he could guess.

"Dammit."

Beth had the better angle, a fact she already seemed to be aware of when he glanced back over his shoulder. She was already screwing on the makeshift silencer she'd brought with her, fitting the barrel of her small revolver inside the hollowed out flashlight, an idea she'd borrowed from Rick. He turned back around, craning his neck as the steady murmur of a large group of people grew in pitch across the field.

"Looks like tha' lil bit a time we bought ourselves's gone," he said, his mouth settling into a grim line.

"Yep," came the short reply.

He turned to see her already picking her way to the edge of the loft, a thin bar of of metal in hand. Lightly, she swung down the first couple of rungs of the ladder. Bending at the waist, and keeping a firm grip on the side close to the upper floorboards, she wedged the steel between the rung and the post it was secured to. He kept her in his peripheral as he moved to the wall she'd vacated and picked up the binoculars from where she'd hung them on a jutting piece of wood. There was a protesting squeal of old metal as she pried the nails away from where they'd been hammered in a lifetime ago. With a crack, she kicked the wormy timber and the whole thing gave, crashing into the ground. Scrambling back up what was left, she caught his eye and shoved the bar into her pack.

"Reckoned we were stayin' here," Beth explained in a low voice, moving so that she was crouched next to his thigh as he stood above her, both of them watching the field warily. She pressed her lips together briefly, her chin tipping up as she looked at him."You only got so many bolts."

It wasn't that bad of an idea, as things went. Made sense, at least. They could get down, but nobody was getting up if it came down to it. And there was a good chance he was going to run out of bolts and bullets before the bastards ran out of people or walkers to throw at them.

He nodded, his mouth quirking up a little. "Well, we ain't leadin' 'em back t'the zone," he muttered back. "But you'd best pray they don't get the idea of burnin' the place down."

She didn't reply, both of them falling quiet for a long moment as they listened for the rumble of truck engines starting. Aside from the persistent drone of voices drifting on the wind, little else stirred. Daryl swept his finger over the focus wheel, trying to bring the distant road into focus. It was a helluva lot easier in daylight. A dozen people, maybe more, were clear and distinct, milling on the highway in front of the trucks and scurrying and buzzing like a kicked up hornet's nest. Their gestures were animated, panicked, their mouths flung open wide as they shouted at one another.

"Sounds like they ain't gettin' organized fast," Beth whispered.

"Mm. Maybe." He picked at his lip with his thumb as he dropped the binoculars, nudging her with the back of his hand and ticking his chin towards the crack when she glanced up. "One or two comin' this way."

She took them from him, looking to where he indicated along the irrigation ditch that ran parallel to the treeline. He could still barely see two figures darting into the woods, and another two running full tilt on the opposite side.

"They're gonna circle 'round," she murmured, handing him back the binoculars.

"Looks like it." He peered through the lenses back towards the road. "Rest of 'em ain't doin' shit yet."

"That ain't gonna last," he heard her say, the words followed by quiet rustling and soft creaks as she moved away from him.

"Naw, it ain't," he agreed roughly, half-twisting to toss the binoculars to her again and heading to the other side of the loft.

She caught them deftly, shoving them into her pack before dropping it to the floor. Using it as a brace, she slid down onto her belly, propping her elbows on it as she settled into as comfortable a position as she was probably going to get. From where she was lying, she was just out of sight of the loft's edge. Daryl knelt on one knee, bracing his shoulder against the wall and setting his crossbow across his thigh as he loaded a bolt. They were running on educated guesses, but it wasn't rocket science to figure that at some point, the other group had done a bit of scouting beforehand. Was probably how they'd worked out setting up around the quarry. So it was a pretty safe bet they knew about the other local landmarks. Like the barn.

So the two of them waited, kept listening. The shouts were still carrying over the field, not loud enough to know what they were saying, but they didn't need to - scared and pissed, that's how they were running. Not enough to lose all their shit, but enough that it was gonna take time to get it together again. But they were still coming. Maybe not in trucks, not yet, but being on foot made them more dangerous - quieter, for one thing, maybe even a little quicker for another, staying off the roads, pushing straight through the woods.

The wind kicked up, causing naked branches to scrape against the side of the building, but it couldn't mask the distinct crack of twigs snapping underfoot, the sound too rhythmic to be anything but someone or something walking. Daryl secured the bolt in place with a soft click. His breathing slowed, muscle memory kicking in. Balancing his elbow on his knee, he held the weapon up and aimed down, his eyes flitting back and forth, watching to see where they'd come in. There were at least two places to get inside easily, the large gap across from them and the one in the left wall, just big enough for a small man to squeeze through.

There was another pop, coming from the back of the barn and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beth subtly shift forward. His index finger gently tightened around the trigger. He hadn't thought they'd try it, but there was a small opening under the loft. Wood splintered under their hiding spot, a noise like the ripple of thunder in the quiet space, probably louder than the son of a bitch that made it realized. Daryl nudged the crossbow higher, aiming down the length of the bolt. His lungs burned cold as he breathed in, slowly exhaling past his lips, pursing them so the steam escaping his mouth flowed up and out of sight. Something scuffed faintly against the ground and he eased the bow downwards, watching over the end of the boards. A dark head of hair peeked out from beneath the edge.

THUNK!

The tip sank into short dark hair, burying itself nearly to the fletch and the figure dropped soundlessly to the floor. There was a scramble of movement from below and he heard the whistle of a bullet as he reloaded, followed by another thud. Two down. Daryl lifted the bow again, keeping himself from flinching as a gunshot exploded through the planks not ten feet from him. Automatically shutting his eyes against the spray of slivers, he heard Beth shift, the rapid change of her weight distribution making the boards squeak. He felt them give as she launched herself over, bowing as she swung down from the ladder close by and there was another whump of impact, then another.

Blinking, he sprung up and down, holding onto his bow with one hand and using the other to use as leverage as he bent down to grab onto the highest rung left on the ladder. Landing hard enough to make his bones vibrate, he stood straight in time to see Beth leaning over a young man, already pulling her knife from the side of his head.

"Grazed him the first time," she said, her eyes sharp and bright as she turned towards him. "More'll be comin' any second."

"I know," he replied, stopping just long enough to retrieve the bolt he'd fired from the first poor bastard, sparing his face one small, quick glance. Another young one. Looked to be about Carl's age, his face still round and soft with baby fat. Fucking waste.

He didn't give himself time to consider it long. They'd bought a couple more minutes, tops. Beth was already a blur of blonde dashing past him, slipping through the wall. Daryl was hot on her heels, both of them turning east, towards the sun rising up through the trees. Worse case scenario was that group was fucking stupid enough to turn that herd loose. He didn't think they would, it was goddamn suicide, but he couldn't rule out the possibility. Whether they did or didn't, he and Beth needed high ground and they needed cover. Somebody was going to get wise real quick to the barn, or at least to the fact their people were missing. They couldn't count on no one knowing where the scouts had been headed. If their luck had held, Morgan hadn't gotten his fucked up ass back to the zone already. Couldn't count on that either, which meant they couldn't get back to the walls, not yet, not when there was a chance their own people were coming this way and didn't know shit was already moving.

There was a glint to his right.

Without warning, he slammed into Beth, knocking her sideways as something shot out of the underbrush, something fast. Daryl snatched at her arm, yanking her against him as he pushed them both behind a tree. Like a goddamned snake, she twisted in his grip, but before she could turn around completely, he ripped her revolver out of her hand, dropping his crossbow and wrapping his other hand around the back of her head. Pinning her between his body and the trunk, he pressed her face into his chest as gunshots went off like a set of firecrackers around them.

"Shit," he cursed, letting her go and leaning around the tree just far enough to catch sight of red plaid.

Without time to aim, he fired twice, a twisted kind of satisfaction tightening in his gut when there was a scream and a scrabbling of leaves. He lowered his arm and glanced down at Beth.

"You aright?"

She jerked her head down in a brief nod, her jaw clenched. He handed her back the gun, bending down long enough to pick up his crossbow from the ground before striding back out into the open. A middle aged woman was on the other side, her back to the tree and her hand clutched around her arm. She had her hair tied back in a ponytail, way from features that were homely, almost motherly in a tv sitcom sort of way. She looked up at them, whimpering with eyes that were dark brown and watering.

"Please," she sobbed thickly, tears of pain and anger welling, spilling down her cheeks. "Just do it."

"Do what?" he growled at her, his ears pricking at the sound of a hammer being pulled with a harsh click.

For a split second, he thought it was Beth. Distracted by it, he glanced at her, expecting to see her standing beside him with her gun aimed down. In that split second of looking away, a third gunshot echoed through the woods and out of instinct, he grabbed Beth's arm again, his ears ringing as both of them hit the ground at the same time. The woman slumped over, her mouth hanging open grotesquely around the pistol barrel she'd shoved there, her eyes still wide. There was a sharp intake of breath and he realized belatedly that it was him. Then Beth's hand was gripping his shoulder.

"They're coming."

"Fuck!" he snarled, slamming his fist down before pushing himself up.

There wasn't time. The window was closing again. Beth took the gun from the dead woman's limp hand as he stood up before they took off deeper into the woods at full tilt.

No goddamned time.


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long absence again, guys, I've unfortunately been no where near a computer for the past month. Between my new teaching job and a very painful back injury, I've been out of commission. Thankfully, I'm finally home for good (at least until after new years) and I can start writing again. My goal is to have a new chapter up and out every other day from now until Feral is finished. Thank you all so much for the continued love and support!

Beth didn't let herself consider it. Not the way the woman's eyes were the same shade of blue as her own, or the pleading that had fallen on her ears, or the clap of the gunshot that still rang in them. She couldn't consider it. She couldn't consider the reasons or the circumstances or the what ifs or the why. The only thing she  _could_ let herself dwell on was her own pulse hammering in her chest and the dry burn that seared her lungs as her boots pounded on the soggy ground. They'd been set at a dead run for over what felt like miles. Probably had been, she didn't really have any idea. Didn't matter.

Distance did.

The trees pressed together, limiting her field of vision. Ducking under a bent branch of soft pine, she felt the needles prick her cheek, scraping over her skin and leaving a thin trail of dew. She swiped the side of her hand over it unconsciously, roughly, smearing it wetly up to the corner of her eye. The moisture clung, then mingled with the damp heat that leaked over her lashes, a reaction to the sharp taste of winter in the air. The stray observation crossed her mind that it would be less than a week before the first hard frost would coat the ground. Her breath rattled out of her mouth like a gasp, harsh and hot as it blew past her lips and left a trail of steam in its wake, snaking through her hair as she flew over a fallen log. It hung in the air for several seconds, as clear a mark as the prints she left in the mud, before evaporating completely.

Daryl was a dark shadow flickering in and out of sight on her right, both of them instinctively leaving one another room to maneuver. Her gun was a cold weight at the small of her back, jostling against the waistband of her jeans as she swung herself around a thick trunk. Reflexively, she cupped her hand over it, checking that it wouldn't be jarred loose and that the safety wouldn't slip. The muscles that traveled up her legs through her back ached from their brutal pace, felt as though they would be seared away at any time and she'd drop, boneless and vulnerable. It was a thought that spurred her on, the dread that was bitter at the back of her throat a tell - her body's way of reminding her what lay behind them.

It was with a mixture of relief and trepidation that she caught sight of Daryl slowing down, and she changed direction to move closer to him, collapsing back against a tall pine, panting. Blood rushed into her cheeks, causing them to redden as she drew in large gusts of air, letting the burn wash over her gladly. Her nerves were alive with adrenaline and frightful anticipation. Daryl stood beside her, his chest expanding and falling with his own rapid breaths. One hand clutched at the strap of his crossbow as he leaned his weight on the other, braced next to her shoulder as he stared in the direction they'd come. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead in dark swaths. He looked as haggard as she felt.

He angled his face to look down at her, meeting her gaze. She felt the rough scrape of his fingers against the side of her neck, a sure touch as they closed lightly around the back of her neck, tipping her head, inspecting. His voice was raspy, almost reedy as he tried to get his wind back. "You aright?"

She wanted to ask him the same thing, but she just wasn't able to get enough air to actually speak, so she settled for just sharply nodding once and raking her gaze over him as his hand moved back to the tree. He had a scratch across his chin that was lightly bleeding, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Satisfied they were in the same boat, she blindly rummaged in her pack for the bottle of water she'd brought. Fighting back the need to greedily guzzle down the lukewarm liquid, she took one measured swallow before thrusting it in Daryl's direction. He took it from her silently and took his own hurried gulp before passing it over to her. Twisting the cap with a crack, she shoved it back into the bag.

As she did so, she scanned the woods around them, her attention splitting between listening for any unusual sounds and taking in their surroundings. Aside from the sparse brush, there weren't many places to hide. Honestly, there weren't going to be. The pine trees were thin and spread apart in this part of the woods. A lot of it had already been forested before everything had gone to hell, which left a good bit of cleared land, spacious and wide. Great for potential farming, but it left the two of them with metaphorical bulls-eyes on their backs. Too much open ground, not enough cover. Exchanging a glance with Daryl revealed that he was likely thinking along the same vein, the lines around his mouth deepening as he scowled.

"Shit."

Daryl spat the word out - hard, guttural, and utterly sincere. Hearing it nearly made her mouth twitch up. She almost replied. Maybe he noticed, because when he pulled his hand back from the tree, straightening up, he brushed it down the sleeve of her jacket with a strained-looking smirk.

"Good?" he asked.

She tilted her head down again. "Good," she said, glad to hear that her voice sounded steady, albeit weary.

As soon as the word left her mouth, there was a crack behind them, echoing through the trees like a shot. The bark exploding from the tree next to them was a lightning quick testament that the comparison was closer to the truth than she would have liked. Apparently optimistic had been a bigger stretch than she'd initially thought. Beth threw out her own curse, following the sharp pull of Daryl's fingers digging into her arm and launching from their resting spot.

Dragging her to her feet, Daryl let her go abruptly as she immediately broke into a sprint, instinctively ducking her head down. Beth darted out in front of him, weaving around two tightly bound trunks. Shards of wood rained down against her back, catching in her hair as several more shots cracked through the air. Her shoulder suddenly jerked forwards. A thin line of fire seared along her collarbone before winking out of existence, the pain almost instantaneously snuffed out by the addictive hum of adrenaline. There wasn't time to acknowledge the sensation for longer than a millisecond, her eyes desperately roving for something, anything, they could get behind. But the field stretched open and desolate in front of them, scrawny pines the sole flora to be seen.

Another shot whizzed past and she automatically swung a hard left, altering her course slightly. She heard Daryl's footsteps thundering at her heels, his breath as harsh in her ears as her own. The ground rolled under them, becoming steeper as it rose into an incline. Trying to keep as many of the pines at her back as she could, Beth scrambled through the dead needles, silently praying that there weren't any hidden dips or snaking branches to trip over. Clumps of dirt sprayed up like tiny geysers made of earth and leaves, sent upwards in quick short bursts.

Sweet Jesus, they'd turned the automatic rifles on them!

The slope suddenly turned down, catching her off guard, her attention focused on the gunfire coming from behind them, and with a yelp, she fell forward. Pinecones were crushed underneath her weight as she rolled down the short hillock, sticks and debris scratching at the exposed skin of her face and hands, biting deeply into her palms as she came to an abrupt stop at the bottom. Clambering to her feet, she ignored the sharp stings lighting up the sensitive nerves in her fingers, her flight instinct pushing her up and running again.

Somewhere, Daryl's coarse, heartfelt cursing registered, and she glanced quickly at him, making sure that he was still nearby and on his feet. A nasty gash had opened across the bridge of his nose, as if something had smacked him in the face, but aside from that, he looked alright. His eyes flicked over her, his features stony before he looked away to keep track of where they were going. It wasn't as bad as it looked, she knew, but she couldn't spare the breath to reassure him verbally. The sense of relief was compounded by the sight of the thickening treeline ahead of them. They were close to the outskirts of Alexandria. The rapid exchange had tapered off behind them, but distantly, she could hear shouting. A lot of it. She figured it was safe enough to assume they were out in force.

Skidding to a stop as soon as they crossed the boundary between field and woodland, she thrust herself back against one of the larger oaks, Daryl mimicking the action to her left, both of them panting, drawing in great gusts of air into their aching lungs. Their eyes met as she reached behind her and pulled out her revolver. It was heavy, the cool steel working as a balm against the multitude of abrasions across her hand. Turning away from him while he unslung his crossbow, she looked down to check the chamber. Six bronze-colored rounds stared back at her and she flicked it shut with a wince. She didn't have any room to miss, no opportunities to make anything less than a kill shot each time. With her heart thudding hard against her rib cage, she bent sideways to look back towards the incline.

There was maybe five hundred yards of flat land between the trees and the incline. No way in hell she could make her shots count until they were at least halfway. Whipping back to look at Daryl, she caught his gaze, jerking her head in the direction the shouts were still coming from. He broke cover, and she slid over to make room for him as he hunkered down next to her, kneeling with his elbow propped on one thigh.

"Lemme get the first shot," he murmured. Beth just grunted, listening as the sounds grew louder, closer.

Even at his fastest, he'd still need at least thirty precious seconds to reload. She'd have to pick her targets carefully, send the rest of them running with their tails firmly tucked if they had a hope in hell of getting any closer to the safety of the wall. The thought was little more than a flash through her brain as she spotted the first one cresting the small hill, dark hair and skin blurring a bit with distance and their speed. Something crackled next to her, letting her know that Daryl was sighting down the length of the bolt. The figure was quickly closing in, several other shapes coming in hot behind them, every single one of them carrying large, bulky assault rifles. Beth swallowed, pulling on that part of her mind that just let the rest of her consciousness drift, narrowing in on itself until there was just her pulse. Licking her dry, cracked lips, she felt it pump at the base of her throat, filling her mouth with the phantom taste of scalding copper. Her muscles relaxed, her grip on the gun almost languid as she raised it by inches, waiting with choppy breaths that slowly became longer and more even as the figure ran at full tilt towards them.

The seconds that stretched between the soft thunk of the bow's release and the muted thump of a full grown man's dead weight crumpling to the ground felt exceptionally long, although it couldn't have been more than the span of a blink. The figure closest to him, a younger looking man, slowed, nearly stopped altogether as he seemed to struggle processing what he was witnessing. Beth didn't give him the opportunity, squeezing her finger around the trigger. He dropped to his knees, then slumped forward, half his head gone in the space of another blink. The men behind him didn't make the same mistake of hesitating, raising their rifles and spraying the treeline with a rain of lead and smoke. Beth dipped back behind the tree, huddling into herself as she waited for a break in the gunfire, keeping a mental track of where they were.

The break came and she rapidly swung around the trunk to fire again, lining up the barrel at approximately the right height. She didn't aim. There wasn't time. The revolver jerked in her hands, the recoil making the bones of her arms ache. It was a fight to pull the hammer back, costing her time as the first man dropped and the second brought his gun up again. Beth squeezed both index fingers, her ears popping with the deafening boom as the third bullet exploded from the barrel. There was an odd echo and with a detached kind of surprise, she watched as twin holes burst through the man's chest.

Snapping her head back, she spun on her heel, bracing her back against the tree as she reflexively brought up the gun, pointing it towards the trees. Relief flooded through her as she came face to face with dark eyes staring back at her, feverish, mad, and alight with recognition that she was grateful to see. The locked tension she had in her limbs evaporated as she let out a breath, dropping her gun to her side. Beth heard Daryl mutter at her elbow, his voice a visceral grate; deep, gruff, and edged with disbelief.

"I'll be damned."


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that goal wasn't met. :/
> 
> *Sigh* It's going to be updates when I can get them out. There's just too much going on in my life right now for me to promise regular updates, guys, I'm so sorry. I'll be pushing out what I can, and with a little luck and some quiet around the holidays, that will hopefully be several chapters. As always, thank y'all so much for the continued love and support for 'Feral' and for me. I appreciate it more than I can say, and Happy Holidays! :)

Daryl reached up, his palm slapping against the older man's standing at his shoulder. Morgan pulled him up to his feet as people streamed out of the trees behind him. The muzzles of their rifles lit up white and orange as gunfire exploded on their side of the treeline.

"Took your sweet time," he said loudly, his scowl masking the immense sense of relief that was threatening to make his knees buckle as he shouldered his crossbow and took the M4 that was offered to him. He wasn't wasting any more bolts than he had to.

"Too many assholes that like to talk," Morgan shot back with a smile that showed too much teeth to be friendly.

Well, he was right about that. Not that Daryl could bring himself to admit it right then; not when he cut his eyes to the tree opposite him and saw the splashes of red that tinged Beth's sweater and knew that most of it belonged to her. His brows drew further together as he shifted to aim down the M4's sight. Morgan'd cut it too fucking close.

Adjusting its stock into the solidness of his chest, he braced for the recoil and squeezed the trigger. He sprayed short bursts over the top of the incline, mostly to keep any potential snipers from poking their heads over or out from behind one of the trees. Out of his peripheral, he caught a glimpse of a tan shirt and wavy brown hair. Blindly, he reached out and his hand met the other man's in a hard clasp.

"Good t'see ya, Rick."

The sheriff fire two shots from his .357, adding to the cover fire as their people slowly worked their way back the way they came. "Shit, Daryl, what the hell did you and Beth do?"

Daryl grunted as the rifle slammed back into his shoulder. "Would you believe me if I said nuthin'?"

Whatever Rick said, or might have said, was lost to the sudden, violent cacophony of return gunfire from across the field. Daryl slammed his back against the tree and sunk down to the ground, his heels scrambling in the dirt. Curses were flying, from his mouth and from others as they scattered, familiar faces spreading out around them. Glenn was at Maggie's side, Michonne wasn't far off from him and Rick to the right, Rosita and Abraham were taking off even further down the tree line at a dead run, their rifles bouncing against their backs. Automatically, his gaze flew over to where he'd just seen Beth. She was still hunkered down, both of her small hands tight around her revolver as she squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden shower of bark and splinters. Shoving the rifle blindly behind him for Rick to take, he scooped up his crossbow. Keeping low, he darted towards her, slipping on the wet pine needles and landing hard on his hip next to her skinny legs. He scrabbled for purchase in the slick, decaying foliage, pushing himself up into a leaning position just to her side.

She looked down at him, deep blue irises flickering over his face before traveling down, looking over him in quick, assessing sweeps that seemed almost clinical, like she was taking stock of him. Then her features visibly relaxed . He wasn't hurt, not in any way that counted. She was going to have to get stitches though, the too large sweater she wore leaving most of her right shoulder and collarbones exposed, showing the wide, angry gash where a bullet had skimmed across her skin. It looked uglier than it probably was, but knowing that didn't stop his gut from clenching when he was looking at it. As he watched, her shoulder rolled suddenly, Beth leaning forward to pop off several shots before slamming back again with a wince.

"We gotta go," he told her sharply, raising his voice to be heard over the gunfire.

"I know." Her thumb slid over the safety automatically before shoving it into the waistband of her jeans. She then reached over and squeezed her fingers around his forearm. "Let's go."

Ducking down, she half-crab walked, half slid towards Rick, who was still pinned behind the next tree. Snatching up the rifle Daryl had given him, and one of the ammo boxes Rick had set on the ground, she tossed them back towards Daryl. He caught them both, sliding into place behind another tree as she flew ahead of him. Bullets were whizzing so close that he could feel them pass. Several picked up dirt right in front of Beth, making her pause briefly and making his heart stop altogether. Then she was moving again and he tore his eyes from her retreating back to spray the hill a second time. It took everything he had not to turn and snarl in her direction for trying to give him a coronary.

Just as quickly as it started, the gunfire coming from across the field stopped, the group either reloading or retreating. Rick was slowly backing his way towards him, flanked by Morgan and one of the guys Abraham had been working with on extending the wall. Morgan had his staff in hand, using it to usher people back as he kept a sharp eye on the small hill. Daryl fell into step beside Rick, carefully walking backwards as he scanned the field, his index finger curling around the rifle's trigger guard. So far, none of the bastards had been brave enough to stick their heads up over the rise for more than a couple of seconds at a time, but there were enough of them now that there was a real chance they'd start circling the hillock and forgo their position altogether. And if the number of people he and Beth had visually tagged last night were any indication, their small force was going to easily get overrun.

It was a concern he relayed. "They ain't gon' sit still so we can pick 'em off."

"They ain't movin' yet," Rick replied in a clipped tone, his head whipping around to scan over their people, his lips twitching as he silently kept up a head count.

"An' we ain't movin' fast enough," Daryl growled back.

Rick didn't reply for a long, tense minute, his silence punctuated eerily by the surrounding heavy quiet. Finally, he looked over and said tightly, "Grab Glenn and Michonne on yer way. Tell 'em I want them here with me."

Daryl didn't stick around to hear his brother's barking at the others that were still close by. He didn't argue neither, not when he needed to get Beth home and tended to. Those grazes could easily get infected and he didn't doubt for a second that was going to be the last thing on her mind. She'd be looking after other people, and as much as he liked that about her, it frustrated him. Someone had to look after his girl too, if only to make her sit down a minute so she could keep doing the job she would assign herself, without anyone asking. His mind was so far ahead he nearly missed Glenn hunkered down with a couple other guys from the zone.

"Get yer asses over t'Rick, he needs ya," he tossed at him, neither slowing down nor waiting around to see if the younger man had heard him.

Spotting Michonne easily enough in a small group, he touched her arm and jerked the thumb of his other hand over his shoulder.

"Rick's settin' up a line, wants ya over there."

The swordwoman's dark eyes searched his face, her features set in a mask of calm solemnity that betrayed nothing of what she was actually thinking. "What are you going to do?"

"Get everybody else outta here," he said evenly, squeezing her shoulder as he moved past her. Making a circling motion with his hand, he raised his voice. "Aright, y'all let's go!"

People started scurrying past him, and he noticed Morgan not far off, still guiding others towards deeper cover in the underbrush. There was a knot of unease in his stomach as he trotted after them. His gaze flickered back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of long blonde hair. The longer she was out of his sight, the tighter that knot got. She was probably ahead somewhere, out of sight and sprinting on those coltish legs of hers. She wasn't going to put herself in the line of fire, but knowing that wasn't making him feel any better about it. If anything, it made him move faster, weaving through the increasingly dense trees, which were becoming a simultaneous blessing and curse. Their progress slowed, but they had more cover, a trade off that he had yet to figure out was ultimately going to be all that helpful.

Gunshots pierced through the shifting rustle of feet flying over forest floor, the increasing distance muffling the sound, but it was still explosive, and distorted, bouncing between the trees deceptively. Flashes of other people flitted in and out of sight, all of them heading in the same general direction. He recognized the ground here and he sped up, hunting through the bombardment of noise and fleeting scenery. For the second time in the span of only a few minutes, he nearly missed it. In all probability, he'd only seen it because he was looking for anything that resembled her or what she was wearing.

A small hand, the fingers curled loose and lax over the leaves, poked out from under a thick set of thorny scrubs, the palm nearly swallowed by a sleeve that was too large. His heart was in his mouth, trying to escape with every whoosh of air that was rushing out of it like a set of bellows. Ignoring the sharp sting of the thick nettles, he fell to his knees and shoved the small branches out of the way. The sweater was the right color and it made his gut twist. Daryl pushed his shoulders through the bushes, wriggling and squirming, the plant breaking with dry cracks that echoed the ongoing gunfire. Shit, shit, shit…

Panting, he wormed his way in, panic closing in around him with the thorns, hooking into his skin and tearing at him. Mindful not to put his height on the slender arm, his eyes followed its line, his chest aching with the loss of a heartbeat as long, pale strands came into view, fanning out across the ground and a skinny shoulder. The words were hoarse and guttural in his head, curses and prayers that he was hurling out at anyone, anything, but they couldn't make it past the muscle squatting on his tongue. Not giving a damn anymore, he shoved himself through the wooden screen, only to collapse to his hands and knees. He could only take in fractions of the whole, cataloging the pieces until they took actual shape.

Pale features, scarred and delicate. Dirt and leaves stuck to her clothing, in her hair. Rust-colored specks dying the fabric at her collarbone, darkening her knuckles. A brighter shade stretched in a thin trickle down her cheekbone, blossomed along the line of her thigh. His Beth.

Fuck!

He could feel his fingernails fracture, some break off as he closed his fingers into the earth, staring for a second that seemed to be pulled out into a span that was much longer. Then he was scooping her up, struggling to get to his feet as he tossed her painfully small figure over his shoulders, his crossbow dropping to the ground, forgotten.

Unimportant.


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, an update that didn't take two weeks to get out! Thank the gods of fanfiction that I managed that! :D
> 
> And thank y'all for being so patient with me! Lord, it feels good to be working on this again. I'm super inspired right now, and have a lot of time on my hands, so I'm tentatively hopeful I can get a few more out before the end of the holidays. Happy New Year's everybody!

Her head felt like it was full of cotton, making everything muted, hushed.

Beth furrowed her brows, her fingers twitching against something soft and cool. Smells that were familiar filtered into her awareness - laundry detergent mingled with the sharp acridity of gunpowder, cheap air freshener and mud, all of it muddling together until she couldn't pick out anything else. She angled her head, her cheek sinking into something that felt colder, plusher, and a little damp. It hollowed until it cupped her face, squishing half of her nose shut. She snorted, her frown deepening as she fought to get her eyes to open. Her lids were heavy, though, and sleep was calling to her, telling her to rest a while longer.

Her gut was telling her that she needed to wake up. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like Daryl's voice, warning that if she didn't wake her ass up, he was going to hurl it off whatever she was laying on. Then a hand that felt a lot _like_ his was pressing against her forehead, making her stop her fidgeting.

"Keep still," someone that sounded like him grumbled from somewhere vaguely up and to her left. "M'here."

It was enough motivation to pull her from sleep's siren call. She knew the words were true, but she needed to see it anyway. With more effort than she would have liked, her eyes cracked open. At first, she couldn't see anything, the world a painfully bright sheen of white. Flinching, she blinked, rapidly. That was better. At least she could make out shapes now. A particularly large one was next to her, part of it's blurry form, an arm, extended in her direction. The hand slid away, scratchy callouses catching on the shiny fold of skin that edged her scar.

"Daryl," she whispered, unable to speak higher than a croak. It seemed to amuse him at little, because she heard him chuckle, low and rough like sandpaper.

"Yeah, s'me." The hand was back, his fingers tugging through her hair as he leaned closer, and she could tell that he was sitting in a chair next to the bed she'd been put in.

Her vision was slowly coming back into focus, and she saw him move, reaching for something nearby with his other hand. His fingers moved to the back of her head, mindful not to pull at the tangled mess that covered it and the pillow she was nestled against. The whiteness sharpened into straight lines, walls and pictures neatly framed, little bits and pieces that she recognized. Daryl's figure also became more defined when she glanced over, catching his movement. He was wearing different clothes than they'd had on that morning, a pair of jeans and a worn-looking plaid shirt that might have been orange or red at one time. His face was clean and his hair hung as damply as her own felt. He must have taken a shower around the same time she'd gotten washed. Had he done it or had one of the women? Did it really matter?

She figured that it didn't, not really. It's not like she had anything he probably hadn't seen anyway, and her cheeks were devoid of any heat. What the hell did modesty have to do in a world like this? Besides, she mused, she was comfortable with him, more comfortable than she'd been with anyone else. She trusted him, implicitly. Bottom line, when you got right down to it. And she wasn't wrong to put that kind of faith in him. She was starting to lose count of how many times he'd proved himself in that regard. Not just to her, either.

The rim of a glass was pressed against her lips as her head was gently lifted, interrupting her train of thought, and she gratefully drank several swallows of the water. When it was taken back, she moaned softly in protest.

"Gotta take it in easy, you know tha'," Daryl reprimanded her, the scolding harsher than his actual tone.

"Or get swoll up like a tick, I know," she murmured, letting her eyes flutter closed again as his fingers flexed against her scalp.

He made a low, humming sound that might have been agreement, or maybe approval. Her eyes flickered open again, cornflower irises shifting rapidly as she stared up at the ceiling fan.

"What time is it?"

"Close t'dark, I'd reckon," he said, scrubbing his free hand over his face. He looked tired, even if he was clean.

She digested that bit of information before asking, "When'd we get back?"

"Early this mornin'," came the gruff response.

So she'd been out a good while. Further awareness was creeping back in, prickling along the line of her body until it reached her legs and made her hiss in a quiet breath. She tried to push herself up onto her elbows, but the hand in her hair was suddenly at her shoulder with a firm pressure.

"I told ya t'keep still," he said sharply.

Scowling at him, Beth swatted his hand away and struggled up. There was a pulling sensation along the back of her thigh that was uncomfortable, and slightly itchy beneath the covers she'd been buried under. She tossed them back, revealing her bare legs poking out from beneath the overly large t-shirt she'd been dressed with. Reaching down with her left hand, she turned her leg to examine the small, neat line of stitches, about an inch long and still an angry red. She spread her fingers along its contour, twisting her flesh to inspect the wound, poking it with the blunt end of her fingernail and hissing again at the sting. It wasn't all that terrible. Whoever'd shot at her had piss poor aim, just grazing her. Nicked the artery though. She'd dropped before she'd even fully registered she'd been hit, so she'd been losing a substantial amount of blood. Adrenaline had likely been why she hadn't felt it. Or the burning sensation that now cut across her collarbone. Yeah, really bad aim.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "Hurts more than it looks."

Daryl blew a hard breath through his nose. "No shit."

Beth bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue, opting to instead push the covers further to the side and swing her legs over the edge of the mattress. The floor was ice cold against her bare feet, but it was a welcome sensation compared to that pulling feeling that arced through her thigh. This time both of Daryl's hands were on her shoulders.

He met her glare for glare. "Quit it."

Her lips pinched together. "It's not tha' bad."

"No, but you got lucky," he growled thickly, his eyes narrowing. "Yer still goddamn lucky, 'cause I didn't let tha' asshole Pete hook ya up t'an IV and keep ya there."

Her arms were already trembling with the effort of supporting her, adding validity to what he was saying. Frustrated, she clenched her teeth and pushed against him, just a little, just to really see, but it was like her limbs had been reduced to noodles, leaving her weak as a kitten under his steady hands. She huffed instead, reaching up with shaking fingers to comb back the stray tresses that had fallen into her eyes. Daryl slid forward in his seat until his coarse jeans were brushing against her knees. His hands moved up to cradle the sides of her face, his thumbs resting on the sensitive skin near her ears.

She watched his face, her gaze tracing the hard angle of his jaw, the twist on one side of his mouth. Her eyes traveled up, taking in the lines that fanned out at each corner of his, and how the flinty glint in them softened as she watched him. The pads of his thumbs brushed back and forth along her cheekbones, outlining their contour beneath her skin as if he was mapping them. It was a surprisingly light touch.

"We hardly ever get t'sit still long enough to heal," he said quietly. "Nuthin an' nobody's goin' anywhere, not today."

Hearing him say that took some of the steel out of her spine, and she felt the tension in her body bleed away. She looked at him evenly.

"Don't mean I like it."

His sigh spoke volumes as he moved to stand, dropping his hands and carefully nudging her legs with his knees so that she would put them back on the bed. Gingerly, she obliged, scooting over to give him room as he settled into a sitting position beside her. Daryl tossed the pillow on his side to the floor and curled one leg under the other, wrapping his fingers back in her hair and tugging until she had her cheek resting on his thigh. He smelled like motor oil, the scent heavily overlaying the other smells that she'd come to associate him with. He'd been in the garage at some point, or at least outside around his motorcycle. She wasn't surprised. The man made a beeline in that direction whenever something was on his mind. Part of her wanted to ask if he was alright, but she doubted it would be a welcome question when he wasn't injured. He'd open up in his own time, if he wanted to talk. She didn't have to push him anymore for that; they'd gotten over that hurtle a long time ago.

The memory of moonshine was a warm glow in her belly as she turned her head to look up at him. "Did ya hafta haul me far?"

He lifted one shoulder as he looked down at her, his fingers busily threading themselves through her hair. "Couple miles." Then he grunted. "You gotta stop gettin' out ahead'a me." The corner of his mouth curled up slightly. "Shit happens when you do tha'."

It was hard not to reach up and link her fingers with his at the relief she could see just behind that smirk. Beth wasn't sure that she could do that without choking on the lump in her throat, so she tried her luck a little bit more to resist the temptation.

"Why'd ya bring me here instead of the clinic?"

His expression fell flat. "I did. Wasn't gonna bring the asshole into Aaron's house. He hooked Maggie up t'ya."

He nodded to the arm she had curled over her stomach and she shifted to follow his line of sight. She pushed up the sleeve a little to see a neat white square taped to the inside of her elbow that she hadn't noticed. The warmth in her stomach had flared a little brighter at the mention of her sister, a change that she wasn't sure what to do with. Distractedly, she ran a fingertip over the smooth plastic.

"You wanna ask anythin' else?"

There was a note in the way he posed the question, a reluctance that made her glance back up at him. He wasn't looking at her anymore, his head tipped back and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. She'd poked at enough wounds for one day.

"No," she said, rubbing her cheek against the muscle of his thigh and closing her eyes again.

Without a need to talk, she let herself reach up and catch his hand, gently pulling it out of her hair. Between her soft touch and her equally soft answer, Beth could feel him relax where his body came into contact with hers. Tomorrow was coming whether she liked it or not, along with everything else. If she kept getting lucky, she'd be up before Daryl in the morning. She could get out of bed without a fuss then. There were things to do, but not right now. Right now, she just wanted to bask in the fact that they'd both come home. Maybe a little worse for wear, but they were here, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to take that from them.


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, yay! Lord, I've missed working on 'Feral'. It feels awesome to be getting content out again.
> 
> As always, thank you guys so much and I hope y'all enjoy! :)

It'd been a couple hours, maybe three, since she'd drifted off.

Daryl cracked one eye open, a sliver of blue beneath dark lashes as he watched the open doorway, the sound of light footsteps echoing down the hall. Beth was deeply asleep beside him, her head still pillowed on his leg as he leaned back against the headboard. She hadn't been disturbed when he'd shifted to chase away the crawling numbness in it, so he wasn't surprised that she remained unaware of any noises. She was give out, whether she wanted to be or not, he thought with a slight tilt of his mouth.

The expression dropped as Carol came to stand in the doorway, her grannie sweater clean and floral, her trousers pressed and her wild, graying curls combed into as neat a mess as she could make them. She was carrying a small tray with a couple of bowls, the steam wafting up in the chilly air. Her eyes trailed between him and Beth, and he relaxed again when a little warmth thawed some of the ice in them. If she had anything to say about the position they were in, she kept it to herself. Without a word, she walked in and set the tray down before moving to the corner of the room and plucking up the quilted blanket that had been carefully folded away. The tenderness with which she tucked it over Beth was completely at odds with the harshness that'd defined her presence in the past few months.

"How's she doin'?" Carol asked softly, her hand drifting over Beth's cheek as she lowered herself to the edge of the bed, her knee bumping his calf.

Daryl folded his free hand behind his head, his own fingers remaining in the blonde's hair. "Aright."

Carol glanced up at him sharply, some of the ice returning. "What about you?"

He just shrugged, chewing on the corner of his lip. "Gotta be aright too."

"I'd hope so, after the crap you pulled in Pete's office," she replied lightly.

He snorted, both of his eyes opening into a glare as he stared at her. The bastard had had it coming. The way he'd touched Beth, way too many hands in too many places they didn't need to be, bitching the whole time about how little he could do for her. Panic had been closing in on Daryl as he'd watched the red line staining her jeans widen as the doctor kept talking, checking her over in every place imaginable except her wound, like he was just killing time, like it didn't matter one way or the other if she lived.

"Ain't like he'll miss them bottles," he growled in a low voice.

Carol's voice was a gentle chiding. "You had him pinned to the wall by the throat. How much good was he doin' Beth there?"

"Don't matter now," he said, looking down at the woman they were talking about. "She's aright."

"Are you repeating it to me or to you?" Carol asked shrewdly, a pointedness suddenly in her expression that he didn't care for. He didn't answer her either, letting his eyes drift closed again as she continued. "Tara helped Denise and me clean up the mess. I think the two of them are going to try to ease into the clinic so we can keep Pete out of it. They're smart girls." She paused to stroke the back of her fingers over the scars above Beth's brow. Then she sighed. "Rick's putting off dealing with him until we can get a handle on the situation outside."

There was an inflection in the way she said it that made Daryl look at her again. "You don' think we should?"

"I think we should get it all taken care of all of it in one swoop," she admitted coolly, cutting her eyes towards him. "But it's not my call."

That surprised him. It was the first time he could recall, recently anyway, where the sheriff and Carol weren't on the same page. Not that he had any problem with what the older woman was suggesting. Frankly, if Pete suddenly disappeared, Daryl'd be one of the last people that'd open their mouths about it. Silence stretched between them for a long minute before he changed the subject.

"Everybody else get back?"

"Mhm," she murmured, her head bent as she watched Beth's face, the look on her own at odds with the thread of their conversation. "Couple of bruises, scrapes here and there, nuthin' serious. Which reminds me."

She eased up from her seat on the mattress and stepped back towards the doorway. Bending down and reaching around the frame, she pulled his crossbow from where she'd left it leaning against the wall.

"Carl found it," she said as she placed it next to the bedside table.

The question of what the hell the boy was doing out there in the first place was left unspoken. Whatever the fuck it was, Daryl owed him one, so he'd keep his mouth shut for the time being. Carol distracted him with a light touch on his shoulder, ticking her chin towards Beth's sleeping form when he flicked his eyes up to her.

"Get her t'eat that soup while it's still hot. I can see her ribs through that shirt."

There, right there, that was the Carol he remembered. He wished like hell he could see that side of her more often, but like every time before, it was quickly shuttered behind the mask that she was far too comfortable slipping behind. The pleasant one that made his skin crawl, jarringly sweet. He'd rather deal with the calculating half of her. At least that, he knew, was real, just like the words she'd just said. This version, though, he kept his distance from, partily because he knew it'd blow her cover if she was seen being friendly with a redneck like him, but mostly because seeing her like that just unsettled him.

He hummed in agreement as she squeezed his shoulder and left, pulling the door slightly closed behind her. He listened as her soft tread disappeared down the hall, his teeth sinking into his lip again and he let out heavy breath. It wasn't doing him much good to be worrying over her, so he let the thoughts go, instead looking down at the woman still asleep with her head in his lap. Carefully, he slid his hand from her hair to her arm, frowning at the feel of fragile bone jutting out just beneath her skin. Carol wasn't wrong about that.

"Beth?"

She grunted in response, her eyes blinking open, hazy and bleary, and he tapped his fingers against her upper arm where it peeked out from beneath her blanket. "C'mon, ya need t'eat."

Beth mumbled something unintelligible as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm and sat up. He tugged on her elbow and she scooted up the bed until she was next to him, her back propped against the headboard, still groggily sweeping crumbs of sleep away with the tips of her fingers. Daryl handed her one of the bowls with the spoon already in it, watching as she wrapped her hands around both sides.

"Eat that and you can go back t'sleep. You need it t'take yer meds anyway." He rattled the small bottle of painkillers for emphasis.

She didn't argue with him, which was a testament to either how tired she was or how much her leg was actually hurting her. Neither possibility made him feel better. He figured it was tired when she let her head loll to rest on his shoulder as she ate slowly, almost mechanically. Making sure she was actually eating the soup, he then reached for his own, leaving the spoon on the tray and drinking the salty-tasting broth straight from the bowl. He drained it quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a soft laughing sound next to him and he glanced over to see Beth looking up at him, her eyes brighter and more alert now.

"What?" he asked her, but she just shook her head as she put another spoonful into her mouth.

He started to shrug, but the weight of her head against him stopped him, so he just put his bowl back on the stand, not wanting to jostle her. When she was finished, she handed hers to him and he did the same thing with it. With a nudge, he prompted her to lift her cheek from his shoulder and she obliged. He pushed up from the bed and unfurled the blanket from around her legs. Pete hadn't told him to, but he had enough experience with injuries of any kind to check for inflammation or discoloration.

"Don't look infected," he muttered, mindful not to touch the stitches in case he accidently hurt her as he studied the angry-looking tear in her skin.

It wasn't hot under his fingers, either, which was a good sign. It'd probably heal up with little problem. Straightening up, he grabbed the small bottle and another one that was an antibiotic, handing them both to her along with the glass of water that was still on the table. He watched her take the pills before he climbed back onto the bed next to her. Beth gave the bottles and the glass back to him and he set them aside. Tiredly, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and curled her body into his side, her head nestling into the joint between his neck and his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He slipped his arm around her, setting his chin on the top of her hair. "Sure."

It didn't take long for her to knock out again, her breath warm against his throat. His back ached a bit from the hardwood behind him, but it didn't bother him all that much, not when Beth was soft against him, every exhale proof that she was alive. Christ, what was he supposed to do if he'd lost her again? He didn't let himself think about, burying his nose in pale strands and drawing comfort from the scent of summer sunshine that he could still smell under the soap. Maggie'd done good by her, getting her cleaned up after Glenn'd come into the clinic and pried him off the little shit. Fucker would have been better off keeping his mouth shut instead of making comments, but Pete wasn't that bright. He'd proven that coming at Beth the first time. Shooting his mouth off when she was bleeding out on his operating table had been just goddamn stupid. He was just fucking lucky Daryl hadn't made him swallow the rest of those smashed bottles.

His arm tightened around Beth and he brought his free hand up to stroke through her hair again, letting his thumb trail along the shell of her ear.

Naw...Daryl'd have no problems if the doctor up and vanished into thin air one of these days. Hell, if he was asked, he'd lend a hand. That Denise girl was smart, like Carol said. Little bit of time and practice, she'd be a passable medic for the more serious shit that was bound to happen at some point. Some time soon, by his reckoning. Too much was happening for it not to come to a head. And they were going to lose people, there wasn't getting around that. Most they could do was shore up what they had and hope like hell it was enough. Stockpile, scrounge up what they could, get more bodies up on the wall, and that was pretty much it.

They might get lucky before it was all said and done, but he doubted it. He had no idea how, but with the reality of the woman he had next to him undeniable, he couldn't say that he didn't believe in a little bit of luck anymore. It might not have had anything to do with it. Might have just been her damned stubbornness that brought her back. Might have been a little bit of both. Either way, he figured he could bet on Beth a helluva lot more easily than luck. She was a sure thing. She was always a sure thing. Probably was why he loved her so damn much.


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest chapter, guys, I hope y'all enjoy! This one is on the shorter side, but there are some smaller moments that I really want to take some time for before the end. And some setting up is in order. Thank you so much for the love and encouragement! I can't promise that there'll be a return to regular updates, but things are quieting down some here, so I'm hopeful. :)

Beth blinked slowly, unable to tell a difference between when her eyes were shut or open. It was just too dark.

Carefully, she sat up, sliding her palm over the cool sheets to Daryl's side of the bed. Empty, but the scent of cigarette smoke lingered in the room, so he hadn't been long gone. Using her other hand to wipe her eyes, she rubbed her fingers across them as she scooted to the edge of the mattress. A line of yellow light gleamed under the bedroom door, its intensity fading as she clicked on the lamp next to the bed. The room was filled with a soft glow and she swung her legs over the side.

The pressure on her stitches made her wince a bit, but it was more uncomfortable than painful. Still, the sensation made her stand quickly, relief washing over her when the feeling eased. Gingerly, Beth hobbled to the chair across the room, testing to see how much weight she could put on the leg as she headed for the pair of clean jeans she could see draped over its back. It was a slow process pulling them up, her bottom lip stinging from the scrape of her teeth over the tender flesh. The denim caught on the thread sewn into her skin, tugging and making her hiss in a breath. The chill in the air, however, made her somewhat grateful for the slightly warmer material, so she clenched her jaw against the unpleasant sensation.

Using the back of the chair for support, she hobbled towards the wall and pressed her hand against it. She rested the majority of her weight on her good leg as she worked her way to the door, step by careful step. Irritation was like a prickly burr under her skin, making her want to snarl as rough fabric rubbed against the wound with every motion. She couldn't fight like this. The knowledge grated at her and ruthlessly, she shoved her hand across her eyes, smearing the hot sting of her frustration up to her temple, and across the bridge of her nose.

With damp fingers, she gripped the door handle and turned it, blinking in the sudden light filling the room from the hallway. Voices drifted from the other side of the house, slightly echoing in the corridor's hollow space. She was pretty sure it was Aaron who was talking, his rich tenor reverberating in the walls as his voice boomed out in an intelligible exclamation. Following the line of the wall with her hand, Beth headed slowly in the direction of the kitchen, the lines around her eyes lightening as the warm woods in the foyer absorbed some of the harsh light. Angling her head, she peered into the kitchen, noting the large crowd that was crammed inside with a growing coldness in her belly.

Aaron's broad figure towered over a right good many of those that were present, leaning with both hands braced on the island with a scowl that looked completely out of place on his handsome features. Eric was standing less than a step behind and to the side of him, his slender hands skittering across his boyfriend's shoulders in light sweeps. He seemed concerned, his bottom lip appearing raw from where he'd clearly been worrying at it. Rick was standing opposite them, Daryl with him, his side pressed up against the granite counter top. Morgan, Maggie, and other faces that were both familiar and not so much were scattered around the room. A few eyes slid towards her as she quietly stepped through the archway, the tread of her bare feet hardly more than a soft scrape over the cold tile.

God, she just wanted to turn around and bolt back down the hall, to the safety of the bedroom, but her leg wouldn't hold up to let her do that. And she couldn't avoid everyone forever, especially not if there was planning being done, which was what this looked like. There were papers on the counter top, thick, wide, and bleach-bone white, drawings or blue prints. A good number of people were standing close to them and Rick's finger was still balanced on its tip near one's center. Beth straightened her back from where she was leaning her weight against the wall, keeping her hand where it was. Steel slid up her spine and locked stiffly into place as she tried prayed for no one to notice the fine tremble in her legs.

Daryl glanced in her direction and immediately pushed off to stride towards her, catching her hand as she moved further inside.

"You ain't s'pposed to be up yet," he chastised her in a low tone.

She flicked her gaze over his shoulder before returning to look up into his features and just shrugged. His lips thinned, but he didn't try to stop her when she threaded her fingers through his and limped to the island. He probably knew there wasn't much point if she'd already come that far. She kept her mouth shut as she rounded it, taking a seat on the available stool next to Eric. He gave her a tight, strained smile as he moved away from Aaron slightly to sidle closer to her. Daryl stayed on the other side of her, letting her hand drop as he took the other stool and folded his arms on the smooth stone.

She could feel the weight of the other people's stares, some more open than others, but there nonetheless. Vexing, but there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it. Raise hell, maybe, but it wouldn't accomplish much. Nettled as she was, it just wasn't in her. To an extent, she could understand. To those outside of the original group, she was an unknown. Even sheep knew that strangers weren't to be immediately welcomed into the flock. And the ones that did know her still seemed to be struggling with the fact that she was there at all. She couldn't blame them on that point, not when she hadn't fully gotten her head wrapped around it either. It was hard not to glare, though, at the shades of emotions she'd rather not see in their faces.

Was she supposed to say something? She didn't think so. Why were they all so damn quiet then? And still watching her?

Heat was creeping up her neck, prickling along her scalp. Her mouth was dry, and her throat felt tight. Her fingers twisted around one another underneath the edge of the counter, one blunt nail tapping against a knuckle. Her pulse was a drumbeat that she could feel hammering against her ribs. It felt like the kitchen was closing in on her, making her have to breath a little harder, a little deeper. What the hell were they looking at anyway? She couldn't settle herself, shifting on the stool, then grimacing when she pressed her weight too far onto her right side. Her skin was starting to itch, like it was trying to crawl off her body entirely.

The feeling of someone gently tugging on the ends of her hair drew her attention. Eric withdrew his hand when she looked at him and Beth relaxed a little. He tilted his head at her and touched a hand to his chest. Figuring that he probably wanted her to take a deep breath, she did, relieved that it helped to ease away the tightness in her upper body.

Eric spoke quietly at her shoulder. "Alright, sunshine?"

Letting her breath go, she nodded. Murmuring started up, soft and low as people started to talk among themselves. The sound broke some of the tension in the room. Rick moved away from the bar, and Beth didn't miss the pointed look he shot Aaron as he moved towards where Michonne and a couple other people were gathered at the far end of the kitchen. She leaned over to her left, letting her shoulder rest against Daryl's bicep, letting her eyes linger on the small group.

"No one agreein' on what t'do?" she asked in a soft voice and he grunted in response.

"Everybody wants the fuckers gone, nobody wants t'go out there," he replied gruffly.

She knew he meant more than just the two of them. He angled his head to look down at her. "How's the leg?"

"Ain't bad," she said, ignoring the twinge in her thigh when she tried to prop the balls of her feet on the stool's rung.

A muted, lilting voice chimed from over her shoulder. "I'm glad."

Beth turned her head, stiffening when she met her sister's warm green eyes. Daryl must have felt it, his arm tucking itself from the crook of his other elbow to wrap it around the back of her chair as he twisted around to watch Maggie with narrowed eyes. She glanced between them, her fingers twisting around themselves briefly before they were shoved in her back pockets.

"I think tha's the first time I've heard you say anythin' since you came back," she admitted.

"Might hear more if ya actually tried talkin' to her," Daryl growled, glowering. "Instead of cornerin' her."

The hurt that flashed across Maggie's features made Beth's chest tighten all over again, in panic or sympathy she wasn't sure. But that hurt was honest, raw and bright until it was just as quickly shuttered away. Untangling her hands, she reached out from under the counter top and touched his arm, the one still braced on the island. The muscle jumped beneath the pads of her fingers, then uncoiled as his loose fist released. His expression was still fixed, brows drawn together when he glanced down at her.

"She didn't mean nuthin' by it," Beth murmured, deliberately holding his gaze, letting him know it was alright, that she was alright. It wasn't entirely true, but she needed him to believe it if she was going to be.

He held her look for a long moment before he dipped his head almost imperceptibly, his features relaxing by degrees. He kept his arm where it was though, his hand brushing against her back. Gradually, she turned back around, grateful for the warmth radiating from Daryl's presence next to her, and where it encompassed her shoulders. Unsure, but knowing that she needed to do this, she made herself look into her sister's face.

"Maggie, do you wanna talk?"


	76. Chapter 76

Daryl's fingers drummed idly on the railing of the porch, his cigarette sagging out of the corner of his mouth. His hip bumped against the post as he leaned over, his elbow balanced and his other hand folded into a fist that was propped against his rough cheek. His knee knocked against the rails with steady, solid thumps as his leg bounced, his feeling of restlessness confined to his calf muscle. Frowning at the softly lit window that looked into the kitchen, he reached up and pinched it with two fingers, exhaling a long, slender stream of smoke. Beth's figure was clearly visible, her back to him and still seated on her chair at the island with Maggie at her side, the two of them clearly speaking. His eyes flickered down to where she had her hands clasped on the countertop, narrowing as they twitched sporadically, as if she was fighting the urge to reach out and touch her sister. She kept them where they were though, and Daryl made himself relax. Beth could handle it. If she couldn't, she wouldn't have asked to talk to start with.

But his leg didn't stop bouncing. And when his cigarette had burnt down to the filter, he immediately lit another one.

He'd silently gotten up after Beth'd made her offer, giving them the space he'd figured they were going to need. The kitchen had emptied out not long after he'd walked out the door. Wasn't like anybody was getting shit done just sitting in there. Although his woman might be. His eyes slid to her again, taking in the loose line of her shoulders. She turned her head slightly and he could see that her expression, where it had been rigid and unsure before he'd left, had lost its initial stiffness. Her body unfolded a little bit at a time as the minutes ticked by and the temperature dropped around him. By degrees, Maggie seemed to lose her wariness, elation and relief flaring in her smile so brightly and so suddenly that it was damn near blinding. When was the last time he'd even seen that kind of smile on any of their people?

It made something in his chest crack right in two to see that look. He was glad for Maggie, he honest to God was, but it still made him want to take a flying leap through that window and pull Beth back. Any second now, she was going to cross that line, reach out to Beth, and all hell was going to break loose. She wasn't ready for that. He could see it, how she kept herself just out of arm's reach, how the legs of her chair would shift back just a fraction when Maggie became animated about something, or laughed in what he figured was too loud or too jarring a way for his girl, unsettling her. She didn't need him right now. He was the last fucking thing she needed right now.

You got tha' right, Merle's voice cracked, and Daryl's upper lip pulled back in a soundless snarl. Inhaling a deep pull of smoke into his lungs, he let it slowly flow out of his nostrils as he turned his head towards the wall across the yard. He needed to look at something else. The skin between his shoulder blades prickled at the sound of the back door creaking open, and he bent his head to the side to look at Rick as the curly-haired man ambled across the porch towards him. He made a noise that was caught somewhere between a sigh and a soft groan, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as his shoulder leaned on the other side of the same post.

" _Shit_ ," he said lowly, drawing his hand up to scrub through his hair.

Daryl snorted, a cloud rushing past his lips in a short bark of a laugh. "Ain't quite takin' like ducks t'water, are they?"

The ex-sheriff tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, rolling his shoulders. "Maybe if we'd started trainin' 'em from the get-go, they'd feel different about goin' out there."

"Maybe." The cigarette hung loosely between his fingers as he braced both of his forearms on the railing, one hand lifting to scrape his thumbnail across his lower lip. "Least they're scared of it. They know what's out there. Most of 'em anyways."

Rick huffed out a breath. "Yeah. Thought Carol was gonna strangle tha' woman wantin' a damned pasta maker."

"Beth mighta helped her if she'd heard it," Daryl mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "If Eric didn't get a hold of her. Man loves tha' shit."

There was a shared chuckle before a short, companionable quiet stretched between the two of them, broken only by crickets and the occasional, distant bang on the wall from a walker shuffling past. It was sobering to hear.

"It'll work," Rick said after a while, turning to look past the post at the other man. "We gotta draw the walkers away. If we can get them feelin' good enough about it, good enough about what they can do, it'll work."

"Yer preachin' to the choir. I wasn't arguin' with ya in there and I ain't now," Daryl replied easily, taking another long drag. "Ain't me ya gotta convince."

Rick frowned as his gaze slid away. "I know. You had my back in there."

"Weren't the only one."

"Yeah, well, you were the only one sayin' anythin'."

The cigarette was about burnt out. He flicked it in a neat arc over the shrubs and into the wet grass. "Carol'll put some bugs in a few ears. Maggie's got Deanna's pretty well. The rest of us'll do our part." He cut his eyes over again, straightening up to mimic Rick's posture, his arms crossing over his chest. "Goddamned fuckery of it is tha' it's gonna take more time than we really got." He jerked his chin towards the wall. "The sons of bitches over there ain't gonna wait on us."

"Naw, they're probably plannin' on wipin' us out while we're lickin' our wounds." Rick scrubbed his hand across his stubbled jaw, as if his habit of doing the same when he had a beard hadn't quite died yet. "Sasha came in off her turn up in the tower this mornin' sayin' she'd killed at least two assholes nosin' close to the gate."

Daryl didn't comment that she wouldn't have cared one way or another whether it was actually scouts for the other group or just some unlucky fuckers that'd wandered too close.

"You figured out what yer gonna do with Pete?" he asked, changing the subject.

Rick chuffed a hard breath out through his nose. "Somethin' else nobody agrees on."

Daryl inclined his head, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. "Jackass ain't killed anybody yet. Don't see much sense in throwin' the whole family out." He glanced over. "But you and I both know he can't stay here. It ain't like the prison. Ain't no cells t'put him in and even if there were, feedin' the sumbitch'd be a fuckin' waste."

"So what, we kill him in the street or send him out there t'die?" Rick asked, his tone harsh. "Might not be like the prison, but ain't many people we can just pull outta the woods tha's got any kind of medical skill either."

Daryl grunted, mulling it over in his head as the lull in their conversation lengthened. Finally, he said, "What about tha' Denise girl? The one tha's been in there with him. She's her nose in them books since we got here. Might take time, but she'd get the hang of it. Maggie could pull some duty over there, put some of Hershel's teachin' t'good use."

Rick's nod was slow and deliberate. "Could work. You reckon she'd be willin' t'give her a hand over there?"

Daryl shrugged again. "If Deanna's gives 'em the go ahead, I don't see why not."

He left Beth out of it, making a mental note to himself to ask her later if she'd want to help too. He figured she'd rather hunt with him, or get set up for patrols, but with her injury, that wasn't going to be an option. And she wasn't going to sit in the house until it healed. She'd be crawling the walls. The thought reminded him of something else. Before he could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open again, Beth holding it with one hand as she limped down the short step that lead onto the porch.

Within the space of a heartbeat, he was next to her, one arm sliding around her waist and the other behind him to push the door out of her grasp so that its weight settled against his back.

"Quit wanderin' around, yer gonna rip the damn thing open again," he growled at her, scowling at the way her face scrunched up in discomfort.

"I'm fine," she protested quietly, looking up at him and he watched as she schooled her expression, her features smoothing into a placid mask that made him want to growl again. She was hedging and it was fucking irritating. Her eyes moved away from him to Rick and she nodded to him. "Hey, Rick."

"Hey," he replied with a warm smile, pushing off the post with his shoulder. Rick stopped a couple feet from them, keeping his distance, a gesture that he was damn grateful for. The ex-sheriff stared at her with an earnest expression. "It's damn good t'see you again, Beth."

There was an undercurrent in the way he said it that Daryl didn't miss. Not just Beth, _their_ Beth. The one from before, the one none of them had gotten to say a word to in the hospital. The one they hadn't had a chance to tell hello...or goodbye. Beth didn't seem to miss it either, her cheeks coloring slightly. She returned his smile with a small one of her own and another nod. "Yeah, you too."

With nothing else to say, Rick slid past them as Daryl guided her out of the doorway towards the table and chairs that squatted on the far end of the porch. He ignored the glare she gave him in favor of pulling one seat out with the toe of his boot. He ignored her soft noise of surprise too when he carefully scooped her up and arranged her across his lap as he sat down. They were alone. He really didn't give a fuck if anybody saw anyways. It felt too damn good to have her there. Minding her stitches, he draped her legs across his own and gently tugged so that the majority of her weight rested against him. The sigh she made, he paid attention to, wrapping the fingers of his right hand in her hair and letting his other one snake around her middle.

"Good talk?"

She hummed an affirmative as she laid her head in the hollow between his shoulder and his collarbone, her nose bumping against the underside of his jaw. She was warm and he felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin, tickling his throat. His fingertips stroked through her hair of their own accord, tightening at the roots then relaxing as they moved down to the tips.

"I think we're gonna be ok," she mumbled into his neck.

"Ain't gonna be," he murmured back. "Too much happened."

"Hmm." Beth tipped her head back a little. "You get things straight with Rick?"

"Didn't know they needed straightenin'."

She snorted. "You know what I mean. 'Bout them plans y'all were drawin' up in there. Before I came in."

Daryl started to shrug, but stopped himself, unwilling to jostle her. "Maybe. Ain't sure yet."

"S'lot a 'ain'ts'," she said dryly, dropping her head back down and tucking herself more tightly against him. "Always is, though."

Daryl hummed his own response to her as she reached out to pull the edges of his jacket closer to her, basically cocooning herself inside it. It made his mouth twitch to look down at her nearly swallowed by it, burrowed down like a tiny blonde cat in a warm blanket. They'd need to go inside soon. Too damn cold to stay all night out here. But for the moment, they were comfortable, and it was quiet. Eye of the fucking storm probably, but he'd take what he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so insanely pleased with this chapter that I can't even! Gah! I very, VERY much enjoyed writing this one, although I really can't express why.


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following on the heels of the last chapter, I really felt the need to hold onto another quiet moment here. Beth is healing more and more, but she'd not completely there yet, and I really wanted to take just a little more time to explore that. So, I hope you guys enjoy, and as always, thank you so, so much!

The following week seemed to crawl for Beth.

Daryl had been adamant that she kept herself busy well away from the wall while she healed. She hadn't seen much point in arguing with him, even though she'd bristled at the way he'd said it like an order. He'd meant it to sound that way too, let her know he wasn't kidding. If he'd insisted she stay inside the house, she would have started climbing the walls. Thankfully, though, Eric or Aaron's company had been enough to satisfy him that she could be outside without his watchful presence. Neither of them were going to let her do anything too strenuous, but they didn't stop her from puttering in their garden to kill time. It was that or clean her pistol, and she figured that three of them in less than two days had been enough. Mostly, she just spent the days outside, watching and listening as people came and went from the house.

The earth was black between her fingers. Good soil, but there wasn't much she was able to do with it this late in the year, the temperature much too cold and only continuing to drop. There had been frost on the ground that morning. Snow wouldn't be too far behind if she didn't miss her guess. Another week maybe if the outside thermometer was to be believed, it's level slowly but steadily descending. The sun's warmth was weak on her back as she balanced on her knees, bracing her weight on one hand while the other combed through loose dirt. Mostly, she was just using an opportunity to be alone and sort out the things the kept floating through her head.

Maggie had been by a couple of times. It was still uncomfortable; Daryl had been right about that. But, things _were_ better. Memories and a sense of shared grief dominated their conversations, cathartic in their own way. Other subjects seemed to be off-limits without either of them having to verbalize the taboo. She wasn't sure if it was because they were both still wary of one another or for some other reason, but she couldn't say that she wasn't relieved. It was difficult to explain. Those weeks in Grady, the months she spent with Morgan, the wrongness...these were things that she hadn't even spoken about with Daryl. She didn't know if she could.

The kitchen door swung open, its telltale squeak muted where she was still kneeling under the bushes. Beth pushed herself up to her knees, the thin line of her stitches tugging her skin as they were stretched by her movement. The angry redness had faded, along with the risk of infection, the wound closed and the skin re-knitted. It was still unpleasant if she moved in certain ways, but she hadn't needed the painkillers for a couple of days so she figured it wouldn't be long before she could get them removed. Maybe Daryl would cut them out for her if she asked.

As she glanced up, a bright pair of eyes were looking back at her from the porch.

"Working hard, sunshine?" Aaron asked, moving to take a seat at the table on the deck.

"More like hardly workin'," she muttered under her breath, not bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice as she brushed off her knees.

Aaron hadn't seemed to hear, settling himself back in one of the chairs, his elbows resting on the arms. He'd finally gotten to where he didn't need a sling, but he still seemed to treat the limb pretty gingerly. Eric helped him put on his shirts and jackets and he didn't do much lifting. That probably was a good thing though. What Beth wondered was how he was keeping himself from going stir-crazy. She'd seen him pacing the kitchen in the early mornings, the counter tops gleaming and every dish neatly put away in the cabinets. It was partially why she spent more time outside. There just wasn't anything that wasn't already being done inside. And the air was easier to breath. No walls to close in on her out here, not with this much space. Not even the giant sheets of tin and steel seemed to shrink and that made the tightness in her chest loosen each morning.

Carefully, Beth found her feet and climbed the steps, using the railing to pull herself up and along. As she reached the deck, Eric came outside as well and immediately crossed over to her. She tried to wave away his outstretched hand, but he ignored her with a light laugh and slipped his arm around her waist.

She glared at him, but there wasn't much heat in the look and he knew it.

"I know, you're fine" he said easily when she'd collapsed into her own chair.

He released her and lowered himself into a seat next to Aaron, their fingers lacing together between them. His boyfriend looked at him warmly before turning his gaze to Beth.

"Are you going to be at the meeting tonight?"

She shifted, nodding. Daryl wanted her to go with him.

"Do you wanna go?"

She nodded again, both of her shoulders lifting as she folded her hands tightly together on the table.

The slight quirk of his brows indicated to her that he knew well enough she'd answered in a roundabout way, but he didn't push her for a further answer.

"It'll probably be good if we all went." Eric angled his head in Aaron's direction, his expression thoughtful. "I doubt there's much anyone is going to want us to do other than what we already do, but it can't hurt to get an idea of how Rick's project is moving along."

Beth frowned at him, her eyes narrowing slightly at the flippant way the slender redhead spoke. She'd never thought of either of them as sheep, but she was starting to reevaluate her opinion. Not that she blamed him, really. Eric had been safely cocooned inside the walls since the beginning, as far as she knew. He hadn't had to face what was out there, Aaron made sure of that.

Aaron's sonorous voice brought her attention back to the table. "How's the leg?"

It was like just mentioning it made it itch. Curling her fingers into her palms to resist the need to scratch. She shrugged again, reluctant to engage in their small talk. It stilll made her uneasy, even though she'd regained her ability to participate. It was a pressure that she didn't feel ready to deal with yet. She appreciated their attempts to make her feel included, at any rate, but she just didn't know what to say. Without her adding to their conversation, they turned their attention on one another, although they still shot the occasional comment or question in her direction. Mostly, however, they slid back into a world of their own. Beth quickly tuned out their banter and relaxed. Her mind wandered as the two men across from her teased and flirted. A breeze drifted over the railing, ruffling her hair. It had a bite to it that was welcome and she breathed deeply.

She looked north and idly watched the clouds in that direction gather and darken. Almost black, they hung low in the sky, pushed southward by the same wind that nipped her cheeks. The snow might be on its way faster than she'd anticipated. That was going to make things complicated all around. A sound from inside the house had her turning around.

Quietly, she pushed herself up and walked stiffly to the back door, ignoring Aaron and Eric's curious stares at her back. Daryl was in the kitchen, standing at the sink with a spoon in his mouth and a bowl in one hand. His crossbow had been tossed haphazardly onto the counter, the makeshift fletching on the bolts bending a little as they met the wall. She moved towards him as he stared out of the window, a nudge of his elbow against her shoulder and the sudden appearance of the spoon in front of her nose the only acknowledgement of her presence. In companionable silence, they stood next to one another, taking turns dipping into the bowl, which apparently held some flavor of instant pudding that Beth couldn't identify by taste alone. A creamy sort of color, so she figured it was vanilla or something like it. It was sweet, though, and cold, two things she hadn't gotten to enjoy often the last couple of years.

With sidelong glances, she could see that he was staring at the clouds she'd already noticed, his features fixed in an expressionless mask. He seemed to be thinking. Probably along the same lines she'd been. She didn't interrupt, letting him work out whatever it was he needed to. Handing him back the spoon, he took it from her automatically. It was only after the space of several heartbeats before he glanced down at her, but there was something preoccupied about his face, like he wasn't all present with her in that moment.

"Daryl?" she asked softly, reaching up and sliding the tips of her fingers along the column of his neck, a tactile check.

She felt his pulse jump under the touch, his eyes snapping into sudden and sharp focus.

"M'aright," he said, putting down the pretty much empty bowl and spoon in the sink before crossing his arms and pointing with a finger out of the window. "Thinkin' 'bout tha' storm comin'."

"I saw," she replied, leaning back against the counter. "What'd Rick say?"

"Said he didn't think people'd care much for a meetin' in the middle of a snowstorm."

She snorted, her mouth twitching with the first genuine bit of humor she'd felt all day. "Hmm."

"Reckon yer off the hook." He had that half-smirk curling his upper lip.

She let the smile tugging at her mouth to unfurl a tiny bit. "So are you." Daryl hadn't exactly been crazy about going either.

He didn't deny it either. "Yeah."

He braced his hip next to hers, still turned towards her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Beth scooted closer, letting her good leg take the majority of her weight.

"We know tha' it's really a storm?" she asked, her voice muffled against his jacket.

"Pretty sure," he answered her, his chin balancing on the top of her head. "Most of the folks tha' been livin' here a while say tha's what's comin'."

"We prepared for tha'?"

She was asking about more than just supplies and he knew it. "Well enough. Ain't much anybody's gonna be able t'do if the shit sticks. Tha'll give us about as much an edge as they'll get."

Beth folded her arms across her stomach. "We won't be able t'get anythin' done till it passes."

"Won't matter if they're pinned in too."

Beth frowned. "It won't last."

"Ain't anythin' we can do about it," he reminded her. His arm around her tightened and he murmured, "I know you don't like it."

"Neither do you," she pointed out.

"Nah, but I ain't the one been cooped up for a week." His other hand came up and stroked through her hair. "I know you ain't been happy 'bout tha' either. Been scamperin' around like a wet kitten, all puffed up and hissin'."

Beth bit her lip to keep the laugh from bubbling up. The last little bit of tension eased out of her as she tilted her head back, dislodging him. "No I ain't."

They shared a look, amusement flitting around its edges. She could see it flickering in the way his lips twitched. It lurked in his eyes, and mingled with other emotions that were less obvious. It felt good to just be like this, and she was grateful that they had been more frequent lately. This was where and how she felt comfortable. It was easy to stand here, with him. The world was cut off by a sheets of glass and drywall, insulated and safe. She cherished that feeling, because she knew that it too was something that was fleeting. All the same, Beth used her uninjured leg to rise up to her tiptoes and brush her mouth across his. He caught and held her there, and she let herself sink into it, slow and warm. And like she knew it would, it ended, but the fullness in her chest lingered, chasing away the dredges of doubt and unease that tried to keep their hold.


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hadn't set out to intentionally have this chapter fall on Valentine's Day, but it's fitting. So, Happy Valentine's, you sweet and wonderful people! NSFW chapter that has been a LONG time in coming (partially due to Daryl's very foul mouth in this one and partially because of sexy Bethyl time). :)

His breath hung in the air as Daryl trudged up the front steps, as starkly white in the dark as the snow that was piling up by the minute. It'd had started late yesterday evening, falling hard and heavy. Hard north winds were blew up against the wall, high enough by morning that damn near anything could have scaled it. Most of the day had been spent scrubbing the crap out of his eyes and breaking his back over a shovel. Anyone tall enough to pick one up had been out there. Every now and again he'd caught a break, handing the tool over and grabbing his crossbow off the ground. Between the gloom and the sheer amount of crap falling out of the sky, it'd been damn near impossible to see anything further away than about a hundred yards.

He opened the door, shutting it firmly behind him as he shrugged out of his jacket. Flakes fell to the floor, melting almost instantly against the vent, pouring heat into the house as hard as it could. He glanced out of the window next to the door, scowling at his reflection against the pitch black glass. He turned towards the hall leading back to the bedroom before Merle's voice could float up from the back of his head and make a fucking comment.

Beth was sitting up in the bed, her legs covered by the blanket. She was using her knees as a support for a book that she was bent over, her cornflower blue eyes rapidly scanning back and forth across the pages. Swiping a hand roughly over his face, he shut the door and crossed the room, collapsing at her feet, half sprawled across the bed with his still on the floor. His eyes ached like the rest of him and it was a relief to close them. God, he was tired. He heard a soft sound next to him and glanced over to see her setting aside the novel. The mattress dipped at his side as she moved down the bed. She tugged on the covers he was lying on and he lifted his hips so she could get them out from beneath him. Curling into his side, she went to drape it over the both of them but he caught her hand.

"I'm wet," he grumbled at her half-heartedly, holding her wrist in the air over his stomach.

"Then why did you lay down?" she asked without heat, raising her brows at him.

"Tired," he admitted, shutting his eyes again.

The sigh she made was quiet, but audible as she gently withdrew her arm from his loose grip and he let her go. He felt more than heard her leave the bed, and then there were pulls on the laces of his boots, warm arms encircling his calf and her shoulder leaning against his knee. Daryl felt that warmth travel right up to his chest. He started to tell her that she didn't have to do that, but it wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"Pipes are probably gonna freeze," he muttered as she took the first boot off and dropped it beside the bed with a dull thud.

"I turned the faucets on enough t'drip," she replied, equally quiet as she moved to work on the second. "Was it bad today?"

"Long. Nuthin' came outta the woods, but you couldn' see far enough t'piss, so if anybody was watchin', neither side would'a seen shit."

She left his socks on and stood up from where she'd been kneeling with a soft hum. He heard her padding around the room for several minutes, the hard shuck of drawers opening and closing and the creak of the closet door at the end of the bed. Then something was thrown across his middle, and the bed dipped again. He grunted, peering at her with eyes no wider than slits as she sat indian style next to him.

"Take a shower," she said in a murmur, reaching out brush her fingers against his temple. "Get warm and then come back to bed."

There was something in the way she said it that made a hot jolt run down his spine. Daryl rose up on one elbow, searching her face. Did she even know how goddamned intimate that sounded? Like he was hers. The thought had barely had a chance to register in his mind before he had reached up with his other hand to fist in her long, messy tresses. The weariness that had dogged him from the gate suddenly took the back burner as he watched the emotions play openly across her features. A silent conversation was unfolding between them almost too fast for him to catch. Her expression was warm and the affection he could see stole the breath right out of his lungs. He felt her fingertips slide to his hair, mimicking his touch. It was possessive, her hand curling into a fist as she leaned into him.

His throat felt full of garbled words that he couldn't get out, appreciation and awe and just how goddamned grateful he was that she was here with him. He wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful fucking thing he had ever seen, and that seeing that look in her eyes, the one that he knew he couldn't hide in his own, made every miserable second he'd spent out in that snowy hellhole count because he'd come back to this. He'd come back to find her whole and warm and doing little things to take care of him like he wanted to take care of her.

He didn't even give a shit that Merle was cackling like a goddamned hyena about the things that were tumbling around in his brain because her lips were on his without him being able to tell who'd moved first and she tasted like hot honey and sunshine and it drove him fucking insane. He let himself drop back down, one hand wrapping around her waist while the other stayed at the back of her head, pinning her to him, half afraid that she'd disappear like smoke if he let go. Nothing stayed and nothing ever came back. It was the way things were. She was a goddamned miracle and she didn't even know, but God Almighty help him, he was going to make sure she knew that he-

Beth made a soft sound, that tiny mewling sound that completely derailed his train of thought. Her short, blunt nails scraped along his scalp, making him shudder. He tightened his grip on her hair, breaking away from her mouth and forcing her to tip her head back. Daryl pressed his mouth against her throat, sucking on the spot where he could feel her heartbeat thrumming just beneath her skin, vibrating under his lips. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, fingers digging into his thick shirt. Without warning, she undulated her body, pushing him onto his back and making him release the hold he had on her. Leaning down over him, she swiped her tongue across his exposed collarbone as she straddled his hips. Jesus, as if he wasn't already fucking hard.

"Beth."

Her name was a prayer, a renewal of faith that he breathed into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her. She ran her hand down his cheek and he turned his head to meet her lips in another kiss. Softer than the last, deeper as he stroked up the curve of her spine over her worn t-shirt. He could feel her undoing the line of buttons that marched down the front of his shirt and he let go long enough so that he could sit up, catching her around her lower back before she could go tumbling off his lap. Impatiently, he shrugged it off and flung it somewhere to the side. Beth wrapped her arms around his shoulders, shivering a little as he curled his tongue against hers. He pressed her more closely to him, groaning at the feel of her tight little nipples rubbing against his chest. Fuck, she felt amazing, all heat and softness and sweetness.

He broke away from her mouth, putting enough distance between them to watch her face as he slipped his thumbs along the flat expanse of her abdomen. She was flushed, her mouth swollen and red in the soft lamplight. Her hair was loose and flowing, framing large, liquid eyes of blue that he could drown in. They lingered close, close enough that he could feel her heart beating on the other side of his, hard and quick.

"Wanna see ya," he rasped, sliding his hand higher.

She nodded slowly, closing the sliver of distance between them to press soft, close-mouthed kisses against his lips as he eased her t-shirt upwards. Beth lifted her arms over her head, pulling back so that he could pull it over her head. Daryl wrapped both of his hands around her neck loosely, feeling the wild tempo of her pulse again before he traced the shape of her sternum, mapping, memorizing. He could feel her heat even through a layer of cotton and denim, making his cock twitch against the zipper painfully, but he reined in the need to just roll her over and fuck her into the mattress. As badly as he wanted to bury himself inside her, he wanted this more. He wanted her to feel what he did, that sense of being connected, of having someone that gave a damn. More than a damn, he corrected as he cupped her breasts and kissed her. More than anything on this fucking planet. More than he could ever tell her.

He wanted to take this slow. He'd have sworn on every Bible in the goddamned country, but she started squirming and making those sweet little noises again and it took everything he had not to thrust up against her and see if he could make her scream. He caught one pebbled pink bud and sucked hard, swiping his tongue across it in broad strokes. Beth's head fell back, long ropes of her pale strands caressing the arm that was holding her against him. She arched her back and he slid his free hand down to the waistband of her pants. She was rocking against him and he couldn't help but to follow her rhythm, guiding her in a shallow back and forth. Her hands traveled up and down his upper back as far as she could reach, restlessly skimming back up to his hair when he switched to the other nipple.

She was calling for him quietly, threading his name with something that was warm and sugary and good and it fucking broke him.

With a growl, he hooked his thumbs into each side of her pants and yanked. Beth shimmied, pushing him back across the bed with one hand as she used the other one to work some kind of mind-blowing magic that made everything she'd been wearing vanish. He caught sight of flaxen curls between her thighs as he propped himself up on both elbows, his cock throbbing as he watched her straddle him again. She was a sight, slender and pale and looked so damn good that his stomach felt like it flipped. Her fingers were trembling as she unbuckled his belt, a tremor that seemed to flow all the way down to her toes. He started to ask her if she was alright, if she wanted to stop. He hoped to holy hell that she didn't, but he would. It'd probably kill him at this point, but if she needed that, if she needed him to he'd-

Daryl's eyes rolled back into his head when she snaked her hand past his undone zipper and squeezed him. She dragged her fingers up, pressing her palm firmly against him and his hand shot down to stop her.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Beth," he swore hoarsely.

Seeing a tiny smile start to curve her pretty mouth, he pulled her up to him and caught it again with his, his hand sliding down so that their fingers intertwined, keeping her distracted. Fuck, he couldn't take it if she did that again. It didn't help that she was so satisfied with herself for it. Woman was going to give him a heart attack. Cradling her against him with his free hand, he rolled them over, pulling away long enough to shuck his jeans and everything else. The room was cold but it was a hard thing to notice when she was spread out like that across their bed and watching him like he was the only thing in the whole goddamned world that mattered. The warm feeling in his chest expanded, linked him just a little bit tighter to her.

The expression on her face drew him in and then he was hovering over her, one of his hands just above her shoulders and the other testing her heat, his fingers immediately becoming slick and wet.

He groaned. "Beth-"

She wrapped her legs around his hips, her eyes luminous in the lamplight. "Hush. I want this. I want you."

Daryl couldn't stop the shudder from traveling down his spine, her words ringing in his ears as he pressed his mouth hard against hers and, with his hand as a guide, slid home. He made a strangled sound as he was engulfed in snug heat, so damn tight he couldn't trust himself to move. Beth whimpered and he froze, his hand moving from between them to rub soothing circles into her hip. Balancing his weight on one arm, he kept his lips brushing hers.

"I got ya, Beth, s'aright," he mumbled, sliding his hand up the silken contour of her waist, up along her ribs, tracing the curve of her breast, her neck, and then finally burying it in her hair.

He angled his head to softly touch his mouth to her jawline, flicking out his tongue, being as gentle as he knew how to be. Her head was bent back, her teeth sinking deep into her lower lip as she grimaced.

"H-hurts," she stuttered, lifting her head to press her nose into his throat.

He felt like his chest was going to explode, his racing heart keeping him from being able to say anything else. The need to move was overwhelming, but he was hanging on. It was the world's thinnest goddamned thread, but he'd be still as fucking stone if he had to. Christ, he hadn't even thought about her being a virgin. He'd wondered, but it wasn't something he'd thought about much. On the one hand, it made that warmth in his chest flare to think she'd given that to him, something that nobody gave much value anymore, but it'd meant enough to her to hang onto. Made it precious. On the other, it was probably going to kill him because if she couldn't adjust to him, this was ending right here and it might never pick up again.

Slowly, so fucking slowly he almost didn't catch on, she started rocking; tiny little movements that barely registered as she pulled back to kiss him. Then her inner walls clenched around him.

"Goddammit," he cursed, jerking back with a hiss, his hand twisting into the covers.

Beth looked up at him, her breaths coming raggedly as she ran her short nails down his shoulder blades. "Please, Daryl."

He dropped his head down to the crook of her neck. "Don't wanna hurt ya. And I ain't gonna last long," he warned her in a voice that like gravel.

He felt one of her hands stroke down his stomach, to where they were joined. Her fingers were moving in a quick, tight circle and his eyes widened before his hips snapped forward involuntarily with a groan as she squeezed him again.

"S'ok. I'm right behind ya," she said breathlessly, her other hand cupping the back of his head and pulling him down to her again. "Please."

She was a goddamned angel in every sense of the word. Daryl growled into her mouth and shifted to grab her hips with both hands. He rocked into her and she keened, pressing her head back into the covers as his eyes focused on where her body ended and his began. Beth moved with him wildly, unable to find his rhythm but it didn't matter because he was too fucking close and so was she. With a guttural snarl, he bent over her and slammed into her one last time and then pulled out, his muscles spasming as his vision whited out at the edges. He thrust erratically against her thigh, feeling her knuckles rubbing against his belly. Then she stiffened, moaning long and low. Her hips bucked up into his, her thighs clenching around his waist as she came, her back bowing. For a split second, the thought occurred to him that he could easily get hard again just seeing her like that, her long blonde hair tangled around her head, her skin rosy and slick and her eyes still dark with heat as they locked on his.

And with that thought came all of the fatigue that he'd been able up until then to ignore. Exhausted, he fell onto his stomach next to her, tossing his arm out to pull her against him. He didn't give a shit about the cold, or the way they were lying sideways across the bed, or the snow that hadn't stopped falling outside their window. He barely even noticed that Beth had wriggled enough to dislodge the blankets from under herself and cover them both. When she curled into him, he tucked her tighter into his side, hardly even caring that for the first time in recent memory, he was damn well content.


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, this chapter got away from me, but I can't bring myself to complain. It ended up just working for me and I'm rather happy with it. Thank you guys for the beautiful responses to the last chapter. This one is also NSFW, hope y'all enjoy! :)

The sun was barely coming up when Beth woke up.

Opening her eyes, she closed them back almost immediately, the light from the lamp stinging. With a soft groan, she pulled herself away from Daryl's comfortable heat and sat up, reaching out and flicking it off with a relieved breath. She laid back down and Daryl was at her back again, mumbling quietly as he wrapped his arm around her. They were still sideways across the bed, the blanket barely reaching their waists. Curling her arm under her head for a pillow, she tugged her hair out from beneath her shoulder to keep it from pulling painfully and let it spread over the edge of the bed.

She wriggled and slid deeper under the covers, pushing herself back against Daryl, shivering a little. Lord, it was cold. She tipped her head to peer at the window, noting that it was the sky had just started to lighten. Flurries were visible against the orange backdrop of the streetlight, swirling against the frost-edged glass. Beth watched in the semi-darkness, letting her mind drift into that quiet place that was between dream and awareness. She stretched the muscles in her legs, languishing in the gentle aches the slow movements caused. Despite the soreness, she felt good. Her chest felt full, but it didn't feel tight. Her mind was quiet; not silent, exactly, but her thoughts were no longer sharp and digging into the edges of her skull like hooks. They were softer now, distant enough that she could put them aside and focus on how relaxed she felt and the warm, long line of Daryl's body behind her.

Beth snuggled a little deeper under the blanket with a sigh and she felt his hand start to move up from her stomach. The slow slide of his fingertips made her back arch as he ghosted his thumb across the tip of her breast. She angled her head to look over her shoulder and ended up bumping his cheek with her nose as he propped himself up.

"Hey," he rumbled, his mouth close to her ear.

"Hey," she replied, pressing her lips softly against the underside of his jaw.

His touch became firmer at her response, cupping her breast fully, his palm rasping across her nipple and she shifted to face him with a quiet moan. His other arm came up to wrap around her shoulders as her hands roamed his chest. She rolled with the momentum, catching his mouth with hers as she straddled his hips, not caring about the sour taste that lingered on both their tongues from sleep. He was already hard and she loved the deep sound he made when she ground down against him.

"Jesus," he hissed and she laughed softly, a feeling of confidence flowing through her like moonshine, hot, clear and dizzying.

His eyes swept down, his hands quickly following as he outlined the contour of her ribs, slipping to caress her abdomen, then to her hips, settling there. His lips parted when he looked back up to meet her gaze.

"You're somethin' else," he told her huskily, lifting one hand to rub a few strands of her hair between his fingers.

Something clicked in that moment, in the back of her mind where the dark still yawned wide like a bottomless canyon. It was like the last pieces that had been fractured for so long had finally figured out where they needed to be. It made her throat tighten almost painfully. Breath hitching, she wrapped her fingers around his larger ones and drew his hand from her hair to the perfectly round scar above her brow. His index finger automatically brushed against it as he watched her with a slight frown, like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking and if it was a good thing.

"I'm me," she said softly. "I'm just me."

To come to that realization was like she was scraping her nails across an open wound, but it was also like her heart was finally starting to steadily beat. She was the little girl who hated having her hair brushed. She was the woman who had walked away from Grady with no memory and a revolver. She was Hershel and Annette's daughter, Shawn and Maggie's baby sister. She was a survivor at the end of everything she had ever known and the marks it left on her were still raw. Her world had narrowed only to expand again, leaving her feeling lost both times and yet she was still standing. She had lost so much, found some of it again, and would never see the rest as long as she was alive.

But, dammit, she was whole.

Daryl didn't say anything, his eyes staying on hers as his hand slid up over her hair, smoothing the wild mess until he reached the back of her neck. His fingers fisted there, lightly and the pressure made her muscles loosen. She bent down, nuzzling her nose into the side of his neck and breathing in the scent of smoke and sweat that lingered on his skin. His other arm wrapped back around her, looping over her lower back, hand splayed warm and heavy. She stroked her fingertips down his rough cheek, grateful that he didn't ask because she wasn't sure she could have found the words to explain right then. She might have to, at some point. She wished she could just invite him into her mind and let him see it, see how and why and when, but that wasn't possible.

Maybe it wasn't necessary either, she thought, her heart thumping off key when he turned his head awkwardly and pressed his lips against the thick, snaking scar on her forehead, then the other, and then finally against the one that curved across her cheekbone. Beth pulled back to look down at him, her eyes soft and probably too bright. That old sensation of having what she wanted to say stick in her throat returned with a vengeance, but it wasn't because she didn't know how to say them. She just couldn't right then. The feeling was too big and too hot, spilling out across her lashes and making her chest feel like it was going to burst. There was too much of it and with no other way to articulate it, she leaned down and kissed him hard, pouring it into him - connected, shared, cherished, loved.

Daryl's hand curled more tightly into her hair, the other traveling up to do the same, anchoring her to him as he kissed her back fiercely as she nipped at his lips, flicking her tongue over the chapped patches that caught against hers and making him groan. The deep rumble echoed through her chest and she shivered, her heart full and catching fire. Her head dipped down further, trailing down the strong line of his neck, down to his collarbone, to his chest. The springy curls there tickled her nose as she swirled her tongue over his nipples, then moved down again, her palms caressing his ribs as she traced sweeping patterns over his abdomen. His name slid off her tongue at intervals, each syllable drawn out on a quiet moan that made the hard length now trapped just beneath her small breasts twitch and pulse.

His fingers were still caught in her pale strands, twisting and pulling and clenching the lower she went. As she neared that part of him, her courage flagged a little, the heat in her cheeks intensifying and she drew herself back up to her full height, her hands braced on his chest, but her weight resting on his thighs. Daryl's grip on her hair loosened, combing through the long tresses down to where the ends fluttered against her hips. He was hot and thick between her legs and Beth undulated over him, rubbing herself against him, groaning as he slid against the slick bundle of nerves that made heat ripple through her body. She loved the gruff way he said her name as she moved, how his eyes roamed over her like a physical touch. When she reached up to knead her breast, he groaned and his hips snapped up.

"Beth." His voice charged that word with things that made her ache and she dropped her hand to where their bodies rocked together.

Beth wrapped her fingers around him. She lifted up, guiding him and letting out a long, low moan as he filled her, the soreness that throbbed inside from the previous night creating a razor thin edge that made her nearly breathless. Shuddering, she held herself still, adjusting once again to the sensation. Daryl startled her as he suddenly sat, yanking her so that she was pressed against him, chest to chest as he slid to the edge of the bed. Automatically, her knees found purchase on each side of his hips, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to steady herself. One of his hands slid down her softly rounded stomach, down to flick against her clit. Her head dropped to his shoulder with a groan.

"Daryl, I-"

"I still got ya," he muttered into her temple, grabbing her hair to pull her head back so he could kiss her hungrily. He always had her; had her back, had her hand, all of her. The one that hadn't let her down, not when it counted. This scarred, fucked up man that taught her how to breath again.

He started to move, long, slow thrusts that his mouth mimicked. Then he was sucking on her neck, scraping his teeth across her skin before soothing each mark with languid swipes of his tongue. Beth tried to move with him, her hips stuttering as she struggled to keep rhythm when he was distracting her so thoroughly with what else he was doing with his lips and his hands. One palm smoothed up and down her spine, a touch that made her want to squirm. The other was busy between her legs, circling the tiny, sensitive nub just above where they were joined, driving her mercilessly to a climax that was so close she was trembling with it. She clung to him as the feeling rose, murmuring incoherently into his shoulder as her body finally caught up with his movements.

"C'mon, Beth," he growled into her ear. "Lemme feel you."

She went rigid for the split second it took for that full feeling to tip and then she was coming hard. Her nails dug into him and instinctively, she sank her teeth into his shoulder to anchor herself from the tumbling cascade that ripped through her, intense, staggering. Daryl made a low sound against her neck and his tempo changed, speeding up. She clenched around him, the aftershocks of her orgasm extending as his hands dropped to her bottom, moving her the way he needed. Beth pressed open-mouthed kisses to his throat, up to his jaw, stroking her body against his, encouraging him. The satisfaction she felt was immense when he pulled away from her, seeing the look on his face as he pulled out, roughly jerking himself to spill across her stomach.

Boneless, Beth leaned into him, panting with him as Daryl buried his face in the hair that fell over her shoulder, pressing a tongue-flicked kiss there. Sweaty and tired, she let herself come down from the high with deep breaths, silently enjoying the way she could feel his heart still pounding against her.

"Hmm, need a shower," she heard him mutter and she made a humming sound of agreement.

It was hard not to laugh at how quickly he stood up, holding her up with his hands under her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him. The moment was etched into her memory when she caught sight of him genuinely smiling back at her. Even if she never saw that look again, that was a memory she'd fight like hell to hang onto.


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned lately how awesome you guys are? Thank you for all of the beautiful comments and reviews that y'all have left! :)

The glass was cold, icy, against the side of his loosely curled fist. Daryl held a mug in his other hand and its warmth was a notable contrast. The snow was still coming down. It hadn't let up in speed or intensity. Fucker qualified as a blizzard in his book. He took a sip of his coffee, watching the flakes flutter, deepening the already thick layer of white that blanketed everything beyond the window. A shuffling sound from behind him drew his attention away from the street outside and he turned to see Aaron standing in the short corridor between the stairs and the kitchen. The taller man shot him a half-smile.

"How close are you to just running out into it?" he asked, using his finger to pull back the curtain as he moved to stand next to him, on the far side of the front door.

Daryl barked out a short laugh. "Ain't as close as Beth is." He glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen. "You know tha', though, you been talkin' her down every couple of hours."

"You mean when _you_ haven't got her occupied?" Aaron teased him, a knowing quality in his smirk that made Daryl scowl. Aaron's expression shifted, losing its edge. "Don't get that look. I'm happy for you." At Daryl's snort, he added, "What?"

"Nuthin'," he said, gesturing to the window with his mug. "You get to Deanna's place?"

"Yeah. Snow's deep, but it's doable."

"Aright." He tipped the mug up and drained the lukewarm coffee, lowering it with a rough sound. "Reckon we'll be headin' out t'the wall."

Aaron frowned at him. "You think Beth's ready to be out there doing that kind of work? You just took the stitches out this morning."

"Gonna put her on the wall with one of the guns," Daryl answered. "If she wants t'dig in, tha'll be her choice, but I ain't gonna push her t'do it."

"I doubt you could," Aaron said, smiling a little as he nodded his head towards the kitchen, slipping his hands comfortably into his pockets. "Sunshine's a little bit hardheaded. Wonder where she gets that from."

"Hell if I know," he replied easily, turning away from the window and striding into the kitchen. Not that she was the only one with a stubborn streak, he admitted to himself silently.

Beth was perched at the island, a bowl in front of her and a spoon in her hand. He could smell blueberries as he walked past her, his fingers catching in her hair long enough to squeeze the strands before releasing them just as quickly. As he put the mug in the sink to rinse out, he heard her hop down and pad towards him on her socked feet. She settled back against the counter, what was left of her breakfast cradled between her hands. She was wearing a thick grey sweater and jeans despite being inside, but the heat had steadily been getting weaker over the past two days. There was a lot of stress on the solar panels. The ratio between them and the number of houses that needed their energy wasn't in their favor, especially not when everyone was trying to stay warm. Wouldn't be any dry wood in the forest itself, but some of the structures still standing could offer something.

"You ready t'get some work done today?" he asked, glancing over as she handed him the bowl she'd carried over.

"Yes." His mouth twitched up slightly at her quick response. He hadn't expected her to say anything else really, but he liked seeing her perk up like that.

Letting everything sit in the bottom of the sink, Daryl reached out and pulled her to him, his other hand coming up to rest against her neck. His thumb brushed across the line of her jaw and he was reminded, again, about what a tiny woman she was. But her eyes, clear and liquid blue, was where he could see the steel, lurking with that touch a touch of feral playfulness that sparked something hot in his belly. She angled her head to nip at the pad of his thumb, a confidence he'd only rarely seen before these last few days, usually when they were fighting like hell to get out alive. His hand tightened in reflex.

"Give an old man a break," he grumbled down at her, quietly loving the way she smiled up at him, her body relaxed against his, comfortable and safe.

She didn't verbally respond, but her smile widened. She took a step back and reluctantly, he let her, dropping his hands to turn back to the sink. Washing out the oatmeal that was left in the bowl, he heard Beth walk out of the kitchen and down the hall to their bedroom. By the time he turned off the tap, she was back with boots on and a pack strapped to her back. She handed him his crossbow, along with his jacket and a pistol.

"Eric says there's gloves in the little table that'll probably fit us," she told him as he shrugged into the heavy coat.

"Aright." He slung the bow over his shoulder, then reached around to stick the gun under his coat, in the waistband of his jeans.

He heard the gentle clunk of her tread as she walked just behind him. He stopped at the door and yanked out the drawer, tossing her a dark purple pair and shoving a black pair over his hands. They were fucking thick, but if the alternative was frostbite, he'd live with it.

"Hey, Aaron, we're leavin'!" he called out towards the living area, the curly-haired man's head lifting up from where he was sitting on the loveseat.

"Ok, be careful," he said. "I think Rick and Michonne're probably already out there. I saw them heading that way this morning."

Daryl lifted one hand in some semblance of a wave in acknowledgment. Opening the door was like being blasted from inside a freezer. Beth walked out onto the porch beside him, pulling a large, bulky jacket around herself and zipping it up. Grabbing hold of the railing, he slogged into the snow covering the steps. She followed in his larger tracks and he felt a slight tug on the back of his jacket as she snatched hold of him to keep her balance. It was knee deep on him so he knew it was at least up to her thighs. The snow seemed to thin a bit when they reached the street, which made things a little bit easier but for the most part, it was slow. Most people had been inside the last few days, holing up to wait it out. The ones who had ventured out had pretty much focused all of their energy keeping the snow from getting blown by the wind too high on the walls.

A snow bank had formed in front of the gate, covering most of it on this side, except for a narrow space that had been scraped out right where it closed. The road had been exposed there, revealing the remnants of several people moving in and out of the zone. There were a couple trails going both ways along the wall, deep ones, so a few people had at least been out this morning, if not from their street than probably over from them. His eyes flickered over the snow, twisting his torso to look back the way they'd come. Ah, there. Barely visible depressions, damn easy to miss with this shit still falling. Rick and Michonne, probably. He didn't see anymore, so if anyone else had come up, it'd been much earlier, the snow already covering them too well to track.

Her eyes bounced once between him and the hastily built tower before she nodded. She didn't ask where he'd be. She didn't bitch about being put on guard duty. She just hoisted the heavy weapon up to drape across her back and worked her way through the slush to the ladder. He watched her until she was up, looking for any sign that her leg was bothering her or that she might slip. Satisfied that she was up and secure, he caught the bottle of water she dropped down to him from her small rucksack.

"It'll just freeze," he said loud enough for her to hear him over the sporadic gusts of wind.

"Might not. Smarter than tryin' t'eat snow," she replied, standing up carefully and squinting out over the top of the gate. Then she turned to look down at him, one hand gripping the bow's strap and the other pointing east. "I see a few people outside. Go give 'em a hand, I'll find ya."

"You gonna be aright up there till then?" he asked her, sinking one hand into his back pocket.

She expression on her face was a clear enough answer. Why the hell did you put me up here if you didn't think I'd be alright? Smirking up at her, he dipped his head once and turned away, tucking the bottle into same back pocket. Flakes caught in his hair, their ice almost instantly melting to slide under his collar. They caught in his lashes too as he trudged to open the gate and he swiped his sleeve across his eyes. With a grunt of effort, he shoved it wide enough to slip through, one hand down on the knife at his belt. He shut the gate back and immediately turned east.

The others were maybe two, three hundred yards further down the wall, shoveling and raking away snow; Sasha, that Scott kid of Deana's, couple of other people. As far as he could tell, they were working their way down. Rick was at the far end and Daryl could see Michonne standing at attention close to the tree line, a rifle in both hands and her sword strapped over the back of her jacket. He waved to her with one hand and she nodded, her features softening just a hair in recognition before it snapped back into a hard mask. It was almost like a blip, like it hadn't even happened, but that was Michonne's way. That was the way all of them were anymore, really. They'd had to turn off what made them _them_ for so long to make it from one hour to the next. Old habits and all that shit. Some of them had managed to come back from that once they'd settled in Alexandria, some better than others. Michonne was one. Rick was getting there, slowly. He might not have been, if-

He cut the thought off before it could fully form, reaching his adopted brother at the end of the line. Rick glanced up at him long enough for a slight smile as he straightened up, dumping the hard packed whiteness behind him before tossing Daryl his shovel.

"Good, my relief's here."

"Hnn. How long you been at it?"

"Couple of hours." He put his hands on his hips, causing flakes to flutter down from the back and shoulders of his coat. "Been pretty quiet too."

"Ain't gonna last," Daryl muttered as he bent down to shove the blade under a large pile. "Left Beth on watch at the gate. Figured somebody outta keep an eye out over there."

Rick frowned at him, his relaxed posture snapping to attention like someone had flicked a switch. "Glenn wasn't there?"

Daryl froze mid-motion, still bent over the shovel, his head whipping towards the sheriff as he said gruffly, "Naw."

"Goddammit!" Rick moved from him as fast as he could, but Daryl was hot on his heels. "Michonne!" he barked, not slowing down. "Get them back to the zone."

There was a sinking feeling in his gut, churning like the mud and too soft snow they were tramping through. It swirled thickly around them, swallowing the fog left by their breath. The gate was exactly like he'd left it. He could see Beth over the edge of the wall, saw the way her features locked into the same expression he'd seen on Michonne.

"You seen anythin'?" he shouted up to her as Rick kept going, tearing off one glove with his teeth and reaching for the revolver at his hip.

"No," she answered, her grip on the crossbow shifting, tightening. "What's wrong?"

"Glenn," was all he said, hoping like hell she understood because if something had gone down, he didn't have time to explain.


	81. Chapter 81

The air stung her lungs as Beth knelt on the rickety boards, Daryl's bow braced on the makeshift railing. She ignored the ache in her knee, scanning the area. The trees and what few walls were standing outside the gate were darkly streaked, their color contrasting the sea of absolute white. The gate had rattled shut minutes ago, and the clang still echoed through the wintry quiet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone climbing another perch. Flicking her gaze over, she saw Sasha working her way up, the massive gun she had strapped to her back slowing her down. She caught Beth's look and nodded as she pulled herself up, signaling with two fingers her own eyes and then east. Beth dipped her head once and turned her attention west and south.

There was a crunching sound on the other side of the wall and she snapped the bow down towards it, shifting slightly so she could see what was coming around the tin's curve. She released a harsh breath when she saw Rick's curly hair flash past followed by another darker-haired person she recognized immediately as Daryl. The tower shook and she turned to see Maggie climbing up the ladder.

"You seen Glenn?" she asked the moment her head appeared over the edge, breathing hard.

"No," Beth said. "And no tracks that stood out before I got up here."

"Daryl didn't see anythin'?" Her panic was palpable, making the hair on the back of her Beth's stand up.

"Not tha' I know of, unless it was out there," she gestured with the end of the bow towards the woods. "Daryl and Rick are comin' back in now."

She'd barely gotten the words out before Maggie was flying back down the rungs. She almost slipped, making the entire perch lurch. Beth grabbed the railing reflexively to steady herself, leaning over to watch her sister and closing her eyes in relief when she put both feet on the ground. Upon opening them, she pulled her attention back over the wall. The murmur of voices drifted up from below, indistinct but audible over the wind. The tower rattled once again, harder this time. When she glanced back, Daryl was clambering up. He crouched down next to her, his hand gripping her shoulder. He spoke low and gruff, agitated.

"Couple sets a tracks branchin' out bit further down. Can't tell shit from 'em other than which direction they came from."

"Big?" she asked.

"Yeah. Ain't no deer or nuthin' like tha'."

"Might be a group," Beth said, lowering the crossbow but continuing to stare out. "Or Glenn chasin' somethin'."

The question is what would have drawn his attention and caused him to take off in the first place. It was the only thing that made sense, though. There wasn't any evidence of a struggle or blood spots. Daryl was probably about as crazy about assuming that as she was, but she didn't see any other viable possibility.

She cut her eyes towards him, her head canting. "We gonna follow 'em?"

Daryl jerked his head down in a short nod. "Yeah. Tha' Scott kid's gonna take yer spot soon as Rick's done with him."

"Aright."

She could hear snow crunching below them and handed the bow to Daryl, moving to stand. As she climbed down the ladder, a lanky, dark-haired man stood next to it, his breath visible as he exhaled heavily out of his mouth. Beth figured he was the one Daryl was talking about and she dipped her head towards him as she came down. She didn't look to see if he returned it, almost immediately turning on her heel towards the gate. Anxiety was a tight knot between her shoulder blades, making her feel more uneasy and unsettled. Maggie's figure was easy to pick out among the group huddled around Rick, her tall stature and twitchy movements giving her away.

Their eyes met across the street as her sister suddenly spun around. The look she gave Beth was wide-eyed, frenzy that was barely being contained. The relief, though, when she focused on her, that was worse. She knew they were going out there and it was giving her relief, maybe even hope. That was hard to see; and hard to carry. The others were talking around them, bleating at Rick, at Michonne, at anyone they thought would give them answers, keep them safe. The walls were threatened, the enclosure suddenly full of phantom wolves waiting around every house corner because one of their own was missing. They herded around one another, seeking comfort, guidance, anything to drive away the fear. God, she could almost smell it, stale and rancid, like ammonia and rot.

Reflexively, she flinched away from it and lengthened her stride, fighting the snow to get to the cleared patch of asphalt that led outside. She needed to be outside. The rattle of the gate drowned out the murmurs behind her, and its bulk cut off the weight of Maggie's pleading scrutiny. All she could smell was snow. All she could hear was silence.

Daryl shifted around her as she moved to tuck her hair beneath the collar of her shirt. He ticked his head to the left, his index finger lifting from where he'd curled it around his gun and pointing north, towards a small cluster of young firs. Without a word, she turned her head to keep an eye on the indicated direction, mindful to step in his prints so she didn't get bogged down in the drifts. The snow rippled in places, long, snaking lines that bowed up, spinal ridges of frozen water. It rose and fell like dunes where it covered small buildings, vehicles, and junk piles, turning the world past the wall into a white desert, sand made of ice.

It soothed her to look at it, even as she had to look past it. Movement was hard to track with flurries still being blown in. Branches quivered each time their burden became too heavy, dumping it only to bounce back up again with a spray of powdered mist. Some of them snapped, echoing like a gunshot in the stillness, loud and jarring. It made them pause more than once to listen to make sure that was all they were hearing. She'd never experienced the like in Georgia. It'd snowed maybe once in her lifetime, but it been too warm a climate for the snow to stick, much less for there to be enough to make trees bend beneath the weight.

It took about twenty minutes of carefully navigating the slush at the base of the wall to reach the tracks Daryl and Rick had found earlier. He stopped and she followed suit, both of them crouching down. Beth ran a gloved finger along the edge of one.

"You can still see a pattern," she murmured. "Shoes. Big, probably a man." She moved her hand to touch the print beside it. "He stood here. Don't look like he came any closer."

Daryl grunted in agreement, sweeping his hand across them both. "Naw, don't look like it. Might'a been scoutin'." He half-twisted to look up and over his shoulder. "Glenn could see him from where you were if he looked at the right time."

"And he probably went after him. Pretty widely spaced. They get all jumbled up that'a way. Scramblin'. He was in a hurry," she said, biting on her lower lip. Then she added, "Glenn was too."

The two of them exchanged a tense glance before they both straightened, Daryl once again taking point. Both sets were heading northwest, into a thicket that was nearly buried. Beth was his shadow, her right hand slipping down to the knife on her belt. The thick material of her gloves kept her from really feeling the hilt's solidness, but it was still comforting to know it was there. Maybe she wasn't all that different from the sheep, she thought with a abrupt frown, looking for something to anchor herself to. There was a disconcerting notion. Shaking her head roughly, she tried to dispel it, but it didn't want to let go.

Blowing out a hard breath, she looked down, training her eyes on the rhythm between Daryl's boot leaving an impression and hers filling it. It was constant enough to drive the troubling thoughts away for a little while, long enough for her to get her head on straight so she could focus. Their footsteps crunched as they sunk into the soft terrain, their progress slowed to a crawl as they walked into the deeper banks under the trees. It might not have been a bad thing, though. They'd barely made it into the woods more than a few hundred feet before Daryl held up a hand to stop.

"Blood."

Beth felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. Shuffling, she angled herself around Daryl to get a look. It was a small amount of splatter between the two trails, already turning brown, but it was stark against the snow. It might have been from a superficial injury. No way to tell whose it was and she couldn't see any other trace where they were standing. Not good.

After several beats, they were moving again, their pace picking up. The snow was still too thick to really make any significant headway, but as the minutes ticked by, they were steadily inching forward. Beth glanced up. It wasn't quite noon yet. They had most of the day left, but at this point, all she could do was guess how much of a lead Glenn had on them. If it was Glenn they were following. She doubted the group in the quarry would have made this elaborate an effort to lure two, maybe three people at most into some kind of ambush. Made no sense.

The second time they spotted blood, there was more of it. A lot more.

Beth halted next to Daryl as he bent down, his expression grim. The tracks mixed together beneath a pair of looming pines. She braced her hands on her knees to get a closer look, scanning the dark patches that stained the mush of snow and mud. The swaths weren't large, but there was a good many of them. Some kind of fight'd broken out. It might have been where Glenn'd caught up with whoever had come so close to the zone. Someone had fallen over there, on their back. She glanced back. Still only two sets of tracks. She straightened and turned in a slow circle. No tracks coming in, but one set still led northwest. That either meant the second person was left behind nearby or they were carried off. Glenn had a slight build. He wouldn't have been that heavy. Why cart him off though?

Tapping Daryl on the shoulder, she pointed to the closest tree then to the right. He flicked his head down sharply, tugging his crossbow over his head. Beth slid her knife out of its sheath, picking her legs up high to negotiate her own route to the left. She tested each step, feeling with the toe of her boots for hidden roots or holes. Back and forth her eyes roved rapidly, looking for other signs of someone passing through the area, or maybe another trail leading away, but she couldn't see anything. Not enough time had passed for the snow to cover it, which was making the less likely scenario more probable.

She could almost see the other side of the trunk now, but she gave it a wide berth, feeling skittish. The whole situation was making her skin prickle. Glenn knew better than to go off after something without telling anyone, or at least going with another member of their group. It was common sense. So what the hell had he seen and where was it leading him?

Daryl's voice cut through the woods. "Beth!"

Her heart seized in her chest and she struggled the last couple of yards towards the tree. Daryl was kneeling, his bow half-buried where he'd dropped it. Glenn lay spread eagle in front of him, his clothes already thickly dusted with snow. His eyes were closed, his lashes two curves of ice-flecked black on skin that was much too white. Red and brown caked one side of his face, which was swelling. His hands were bruised and bloody too, but she couldn't tell much more. Beth dropped to her knees, frantically sheathing her knife. Daryl leaned over the body as she slid her fingers down to Glenn's neck, searching for a pulse.

She sighed shakily. "He's alive, but his heartbeat's weak."

"We gotta get him back."

She didn't waste time with a response, snatching up the bow as Daryl yanked the black-haired man up. The snow was starting to come down hard again.


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write this chapter and for me, it was very cathartic. I've had a very up-and-down couple of days and I ended up pouring a lot of that into this one. Ultimately, I'm pleased with how it turned out. As always, thank you guys so, so very much for all of the love and support!

He hoped to hell it wasn't as bad as it looked. Glenn had been a disturbingly light weight across his shoulders on the way back to the zone. Maggie wasn't much help, although she'd tried. She was just too damn fucked up to see her husband like that. Couldn't say he would have been much better if it'd been Beth.

Both siblings were standing nearby, the younger with her hand gently balanced on the elder's arm, talking in soft murmurs. Tear tracks stained the brunette's cheeks, her green eyes lined with red. Daryl was across the room in the small house that served as Denise's clinic. He folded his arms, his right foot bracing back against the wall. Fuck, he wanted a cigarette, but he wasn't about to walk out for a smoke when Beth was barely holding Maggie together. If she got a wild hair and decided to bolt for the other room, where Glenn was being worked on, it was probably going to take both of them to keep her out. He watched them as Beth spoke, quiet and still while she comforted her sister. The line of her jaw was tight, but she was keeping her expression relaxed. She was just as damn worried as the rest of them, but she was still being the rock Maggie needed, stepping back into the role as if she'd never been forced out of it. Like she wasn't dealing with her own shit. It pissed him off. Or maybe it wasn't that, or not just that.

The whole goddamned thing pissed him off. It made no fucking sense. Glenn knew better than to take off in conditions like this. Made it that much harder to get back and if you couldn't get back then what was the fucking point? Someone had spooked the hell out of him and that made Daryl uneasy. He had to have interacted with whoever had been out there, talked to 'em, threatened maybe?

He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, thinking hard. With his head down, he almost missed Beth appearing next to him. She leaned into him, her shoulder nudging his bicep and he lifted it so she could wedge herself into his side. He watched her face lose some of it's softness as she looked up at him. She seemed as tired as he felt right then, and anxious. He curled his hand around to very lightly tug on some of her hair and her head tilted to follow the touch. It wasn't much for comfort, but she didn't complain. Feeling eyes on them, he glanced up to see Maggie watching them quietly. The look she had was pained and he could hear the deep, shuddering breath she took as she quickly shifted her eyes away.

Beth stiffened under his arm and started to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her fractionally. He knew exactly was going through Maggie's head, because for weeks, the same thing had been going through his. The questions and the doubts and everything else stewing in the back of her skull. She was twitching, restless, unable to keep her mind on anything but the man in the next room. She hadn't lost him yet, but the possibility was hanging over her head like an axe and he knew that feeling too. Running through Atlanta, chasing a ghost with large blue eyes that he could see when his closed, waiting to come across her body in an alley somewhere or worse, wandering down one. He could still taste the ash that'd clung to the building there if he thought about it long enough. You were in fucking limbo because you didn't know what the next minute held, didn't know if that person you'd trade every goddamned thing you ever had to get back was even breathing.

He'd been right fucking there where the older Greene was now. Daryl knew the woman was hurting, he really did. The hurt that came from _trying._ Trying to save that one person because they had a light inside them you didn't want to live without, because you'd tried to do that too and you never wanted to go there again. He knew it too goddamned well. But that didn't mean he was going to let _his_ woman be hurting too, not when he could do something to help, to keep her from getting anywhere near that feeling. There'd been too many times when he hadn't been there to just do that. Maybe it didn't do all that much. He couldn't figure out for the life of him why it would, but if him touching her made her feel even a little bit better then everyone else could fucking deal with it.

Beth relaxed again and he made a low sound of approval, resettling himself against the wall. The minutes crawled on, tick by tick and Daryl knew that Maggie was praying. She might not believe that anyone was there to hear it, but she was saying every holy word she could think of. There was no where to go. Everything was already being done. What else was there? It hadn't been that long ago that the thought had crossed his mind too, outside that tiny whitewashed church in Georgia.

_The wood was hard under his hand as he stared into the window, peering through the distorted glass towards the crucifix that hung above the pulpit. Flakes fluttered to the ground as his fingers curled into a fist, his throat tight as words flitted through his mind, reminders of sunshine and summer that burned more than soothed. His breath caught, then eased out, shaking like the leaves that were still clinging to the branches over his head. When he spoke, his voice was raw, strained with the helplessness that threatened to strangle him._

_"Hey, JC…"_

The partition that separated the kitchen from the living room finally moved and he moved to let Beth cross the room quickly to keep her sister from leaping past Denise. The medic eyed Maggie warily as she wiped her hands on a white washcloth. She cleared her throat, speaking in a low, gentle tone.

"He's alright. There were a couple contusions that needed some stitches and he's pretty banged up, but nothing life-threatening." She looked at Daryl. "He's lucky you found him when you did, otherwise he might be missing some fingers. Frostbite wouldn't have been hard to get if he'd been out there much longer."

"Is he awake?" Maggie asked hoarsely, her fingers knotting together.

"Yeah. If you wan-"

She didn't even get the full sentence out before the brunette was darting past her like a shot. Daryl pushed himself away from the wall and leaned down to grab his crossbow from where he'd laid it on the small sofa to his left.

"You get Pete to take a look at him?"

Denise shook her head slowly, her ponytail swaying against her neck. "Maggie wouldn't let me and I didn't see the need anyway."

He made an agreeable sound under his breath as Beth walked back towards him, her hands sinking into the pockets of her jacket. One look at her red-rimmed eyes and Daryl was ready to get her home, whether they had crap to do or not. Her face was set, a storm brewing behind those cornflower irises. She was either going to let herself work through the emotions or she was going to rip into something, one or the other. Woman only had two speeds when it came to this kind of shit and he was figuring that she was leaning towards going back out into the woods, blizzards be damned. Much as he'd enjoy being right there with her, for more than one reason, it wasn't smart. She knew that. That was likely the only reason she was still standing in the house.

He thought about taking her on a couple rounds along the wall. It'd burn some of the energy he could feel coming off her in waves, but other than tire her out, he didn't see the good it was going to accomplish. Yeah, she'd walk into the house and crash, but nothing changed, did it? Christ, he was shitty at this. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he jerked his head towards the door.

"We're headin' out if he's aright. Maggie's the only one he's really gonna wanna see right now anyways. We'll send Rick this way after a while. We need t'know what the hell happened out there."

Denise nodded shortly and turned around to tend to her patient while he and Beth strode out the door and onto the tiny porch. It looked like the storm was finally going to let up, after sending one last heavy snowfall. The flurries had stopped, for the most part, some snow still kicked up by the chilling wind that blew over the wall. The zone's residents had been busy, clearing away a lot of it to make paths that could be more easily navigated. The world was still blanketed in white, but it wasn't nearly as deep. Daryl walked down the steps, flakes scattering under his boots as he moved towards the street. Beth was beside him, her cheeks flushing with exertion as they worked their way down the wide road. The snow still swallowed her feet up to her ankle, her coltish legs working hard to keep up. They checked the gate, Sasha and Scott still in their respective perches.

Daryl called up, "Where's Rick?"

"He was heading to Deanna's place," Sasha called back and he thanked her with a two finger salute before turning towards the far left street.

The generous, wrap-around porch was coated in powder, but some of it had already been swept away, leaving the front steps and the door step clear. Stopping long enough to stomp of their boots, Daryl rapped his knuckles against the door and opened it without bothering to wait. Rick was just in the entryway, his jacket still damp, dark in large patches. Reggie was a bit to the right of him, standing inside the living room in his worn tweed coat. The man reminded Daryl of a hound, ready to bay mournfully at the slightest provocation. Still, he struck him as decent enough. Always treated people pretty well, even the ones who didn't deserve it. That went for and against him. He was one of the last hold-outs still dithering over what to do about Pete. Fucker wasn't worth a two-penny shit, especially when they had other crap going on, but some people clung to the way the world used to be with a death grip. How a man could do that and still be pragmatic enough to build a wall like the one they had, Daryl couldn't figure out.

"Glenn's awake," Beth said as they walked in, her hands dipping into her pockets again. "Maggie's with him."

The relief on Rick's face was palpable. "I'll get over there in a bit, then." He glanced over at the older man. "You'll think on it?"

Reg nodded, his expression striking Daryl as carefully neutral. "I will. It's not a bad idea, I'm just not sure how to go about it yet."

"Fair enough." Rick motioned with his hand and the three of them quickly walked back out into the snow.

Daryl ticked his chin back over his shoulder as they quickly walked down the pathway. "Wha's tha' about?"

"Long term plannin'. I'll tell ya about it later," the sheriff said, his hand sliding down to his revolver. "Let's figure out what the hell's goin' on out there first."

Daryl's grip tightened on the strap of his crossbow and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Beth's hand drift down to her hip. He muttered, "Yeah. One shit at a time."


	83. Chapter 83

Glenn looked better, but it still didn't look good. His skin was mottled purple with bruises in some places, and sallow where there weren't any. The lines that marched down his cheek, along his brow and up one of his arms were neatly stitched with blue thread, but their presence was jarring. Beth resisted the urge to run her fingertips across the thick flesh that marred her own cheek.

His breathing was raspy, but steady and his eyes, although swollen, were clear and alert from where he was lying prone on a narrow bed, most of his body concealed beneath a pale yellow and pink floral quilt. Maggie had one of his hands in one of hers. She seemed calm, but she was gripping the bandages that wrapped around it so tightly that Beth could see the white gauze being pulled taut. If it was painful, Glenn didn't show it.

The room was packed full of people. Daryl was next to her in the corner, his hand brushing subtly against hers every time he saw her tense up. It was hard not to, though. She didn't like being in the small upstairs bedroom with so many bodies. It made her feel like the walls were creeping closer and that in turn made the back of her head throb. The fact that one of those walls was against her back was comforting in its own way. She could tip her head back slightly as a reminder that it wasn't moving. Her gaze flickered over the faces present, Rick and Michonne standing on the other side of the bed, flanking Maggie. Carol was leaning in the doorway with her arms folded, her lips pursed into a thin line and her eyes cool. She looked angry, but apparently was holding it in for the moment, maybe for the sake of her family. Denise was beside her, her hands in her pockets as she watched the room's occupants closely. Tara was standing at the foot of the bed, her bottom lip caught roughly between her teeth and her fingers clutching the footrest.

Glenn's mouth twisted up slightly, looking more like a grimace than a smile, the cracks in his lips splitting. Maggie stroked through his hair with a gentle touch, carding the black strands through her fingers as he focused on Rick.

"I dunno who it was," he said, answering the question the sheriff had asked him. "He wasn't from the zone. Big guy. I think he was dark-haired. His beard was dark. "

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" Rick drawled out, his thumbs hooked into his belt as he braced his legs apart. It was a stance Beth remembered.

Glenn nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so. Everything happened so damn fast."

"You shouldn't have gone out there," Maggie softly chided in her lilting voice.

"No, you shouldn't have," Tara echoed, sounding strained, hurt lacing the bitten out words. Beth could hear it, scratchy, hoarse, and bitter as they'd left the petite brunette's mouth.

Daryl shuffled his feet. "Wha' the hell made you go out there t'start with?"

Glenn closed his eyes briefly and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Maggie reached for the glass on the nightstand beside her, but Glenn shook his head as he angled his head to look at her. His fingers flexed around hers.

He mumbled something, speaking so low that it was hard to hear him. Maggie's face paled as her other hand dropped to her belly. Her husband looked at the people around him and repeated more loudly. "He knew we were having a baby."

It was like the air was just sucked in by every pair of lungs in the room. Carol stood straight and moved further into the room. "We got a mole?"

"It sure as fuck looks that way, don't it?" Daryl snapped, shifting forward towards the bed.

Maggie twisted around, looking up at Rick. "Nobody else knows. We hadn't told anybody yet, not till we-"

Rick cut her off gently, squeezing her shoulder. "We get it." He glanced over towards Glenn. "What'd he say to you?"

Glenn's breath rattled out as he tried to sit up a bit, propping his head back against the headboard. "He said...he said, 'I hope you and Maggie, see your little one by spring'." His eyes widened a bit as sucked in another breath through clenched teeth, his cheek lolling onto his shoulder as he looked at his wife again. "He knew your name."

"So we better damn well assume he knows everybody here," Daryl growled, pacing behind Tara towards Rick, his eyes narrowed. "Fuckers been watchin' us."

"Like we were watchin' them," Beth said, pushing herself away from the wall.

"Yeah, but they've gotten closer," Carol replied, her eyes flicking around the group and speaking rapidly. "Close enough they know who we are, which means they gotta know routines, what we do. We can't afford t'think tha' they don't."

"They got somebody on the inside?" Michonne asked quietly, looking over at Rick.

He ran a hand through his curls. "If they do, it's somebody tha's been here. We ain't gotten anybody new in the zone, not since Beth and Morgan."

Beth moved closer to the bed, one hand at her belt. "So what's our move?"

The weight of the eyes on her was almost enough to make her bolt. She hated it, hated the feeling it made sink in the bottom of her gut. Even knowing they were family, that no one here meant her any harm, it took more than she ever cared to admit to nail her boots to the floor. She glanced at Daryl and forced herself to relax. She couldn't convince herself they were safe in the compound, but the threat wasn't here right now.

"Right now, nuthin'," Rick said. "We play it by ear. Lick our wounds and keep watch on the wall. If the storm's over, we can start sendin' out people in pairs t'scout around a bit." He shifted one leg in front of the other and jabbed his finger down pointedly. "They wanted us t'know they're watchin' us."

Glenn pushed himself more upright with a scowl. "Yeah, he wasn't hiding where he was goin'. Ugh...Baited me and beat the shit outta me, but he didn't kill me."

"He left you out there," Maggie argued. "He wasn't tryin' real hard t'keep you alive."

"No, but he left a damn clear message," Carol snarled, her arms still tightly folded across her chest, the rage she'd been keeping on a leash breaking through her placid demeanor.

"I ain't crazy 'bout waitin' this out either," Daryl said gruffly, one hand rubbing at the scruff that covered his chin. "But without knowin' more 'bout wha' they're actually doin', with the walkers and makin' threats and shit, we just can't go back out there, too fuckin' risky."

Carol sighed and nodded, pressing the heel of her palm between her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Rick stepped around Michonne towards the steely-haired woman, ducking his head to catch her gaze. "You sure?"

The tension was back again, driving up Beth's spine, making her fingers curl. The muscles in her legs tightened and jumped as she took a step closer to Daryl. Carol gave Rick a baleful look as she glanced up, dropping her hand, as if she were resentful that he even asked the question.

"Yeah."

Rick seemed satisfied with her answer, turning back to the others. "Aright. Tomorrow we'll see about picking a few people to patrol the woods."

Beth sidled up next to Daryl, her shoulder sliding against his arm. "Me and Daryl'll go," she volunteered, looking over to him to see if he had any objections.

He just made an agreeable sound and Rick jerked his chin down in a short nod, his fingers closing around the butt of his revolver. "Tha'll be good. For now, let's keep folks walkin' the walls. Ain't any need in lettin' our guard down."

Daryl bumped her lightly and Beth followed the silent prompt, reaching across Michonne to stroke her hand down her sister's arm, offering what she could. Maggie caught her for a second, clenching her fingers around hers just long enough to press their palms together before she let go. Beth almost wished that she hadn't, memories rolling to the forefront of her mind in a rush, strong enough to prick at her eyes. They'd missed out on so much and while that was an ache that she couldn't fix, either for herself or for them, it had looked like they might be getting at least a little of it back. This place, for all its faults, was a new home and it had seemed to be so safe in so many eyes. Maybe not as impenetrable as they'd thought the prison to be, but something. Maybe the fact that it wasn't was no great surprise, after everything they'd been through, but that didn't mean it still wasn't something they mourned. Beth didn't, not so much, anyway, but she felt for her family.

As she left the room, she thought about the question that she'd previously tried to shut out. Why wasn't what they'd already given enough? Why weren't they allowed to heal from one loss to another? It amazed her, really, how even the sheep confined inside these walls had the capability to completely destroy everything around them, if they wanted to. Did they enjoy it? Did she? Was she or Daryl or Maggie or the people outside or any of them all that different when it came right down to it, tearing apart what they had to so that they had somewhere they could breathe a little easier?

She walked beside Daryl, turning left outside of Denise's house and trudging up the street. Turning up her collar, she burrowed her hands into the gloves Aaron had lent her as Daryl shouldered his crossbow. A couple of kids were playing in a yard across the road, tossing snowballs at one another and shouting, oblivious. Beth watched them as they passed, a band tightening itself around her chest the stingingly cold air. One of them tripped over something and landed hard on his chin. He couldn't have been more than six or seven, tears already welling as blood dribbled from a newly busted lip. The others didn't seem to notice, pelting balls of frozen water at one another, and him.

One caught him square in the nose and he cried harder, his small, white-caked fists lifting to rub at his eyes before he slammed them down on the ground, already rounding another ball between his palms. He flung it haphazardly towards a little girl with blonde hair escaping her tightly cinched pink hood, smacking her in the cheek. She looked over at him as she came to a stop, still laughing. With her chunky arms out for balance, she waddled over to him and helped him up, patting his shoulder that was almost out of her reach. And when he was steady on his feet, she smooshed snow into his face and ran, giggling.

No quarter given or received.

Beth watched their movements until the two of them turned a corner and the children vanished out of sight, her mood darkening further.

Maybe they were all really wolves, hiding under their coats of fleece to make themselves believe they were something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this one just didn't want to run the way I wanted it to. It took its own route and I pretty much just had to go along for the ride. Still, thank you guys and I hope you enjoyed it. :)


	84. Chapter 84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this chapter definitely got away from me, but in the best way possible. NSFW folks, y'all have been warned! And please leave a comment if you enjoy it! I really love hearing from you guys and it helps a lot to know what you're thinking and your reactions. :)

It was well after dark by the time they got back to the house.

Daryl heard Beth exhale heavily as she shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it and a now well-worn beanie on pegs to dry at the door. He followed suit, tossing his gloves onto the small end table before reaching down to unlace his boots. She toed out of hers, not even bothering, blinking slowly, sleepily. He glanced up at her, watching the expressions she was too tired to mask slip across her features. They'd been going nonstop for the last couple of days. Between several rounds of patrols, clearing more snow away from the walls and everything else that'd happened over the past week, he'd figured that neither of them would be having trouble getting to sleep that night. It was catching up to both of them. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he slipped the thick boots off. Straightening up, he nudged her shoulder before reaching for her hand, linking his fingers through hers.

"C'mon," he said, giving her hand a light tug.

She didn't argue, shuffling tiredly as he led her up the stairs. He passed their bedroom, moving down the hall towards the bathroom. He shut the door behind her, flicking on only one of the lights. Soft yellow light came on over the sink, leaving the room warmly dim. Letting Beth's hand go, Daryl reached into the open shower and yanked on the tap, his sleeve getting damp under the sudden spray. He cursed at the icy water needling his skin, sliding the glass to as he turned back around. Beth had moved to the sink, bracing her hands on the counter and staring into the mirror, her cornflower irises bloodshot and distant. Whatever she was thinking about, it had her complete attention. He briefly considered asking her about it, but for the upteenth fucking time, he decided against it. When she was ready to tell him, she would and no amount of pushing or bullying on his part was going to get it out of her until then. Woman had long since lost any trace of fear of him, something he was both grateful for and rueful of in equal measure some days. Chewing on one corner of his lip, he crossed the small space to her and reached around her slender frame to start unbuttoning her sweater, easing the tiny pieces of plastic through each loop as he watched his progress in the glass.

_I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn...And my dad._

_I thought- I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby. And he'd get to be a grandpa._

"You excited 'bout Maggie havin' a kid?" He asked her quietly.

She hummed softly as her gaze dropped from the ceiling to where his hands were working their way down her abdomen. "I dunno."

He looked up and saw her eyes in the reflection, reading a helluva lot more confusion and heartache in them than he wanted to. For him to so clearly see it, she had to be weary beyond belief. He grunted in response, fingering the last button for a minute before sliding his hands up her arms to her shoulders. As she shrugged out of the worn material, he wrapped one arm around them and pulled her to him, resting his chin on the crown of her hair. He felt more than heard her shuddering sigh, her hands lifting to curl around his forearm. His other hand rested on her belly.

"I can't tell ya it's gonna be aright," he said gruffly.

"Ain't lookin' for you to," she replied.

Her words lingered between them for the span of several heartbeats as he groped for something to say to make her feel better, but he couldn't find them. So he asked.

"What's gon' patch it?"

Her breath was warm on his skin as she tipped her head back and to the side, reaching up on her tiptoes and pressing her mouth under his chin.

"I dunno tha' either."

He watched her face in the mirror as her eyes closed, her cheek rubbing against his frayed shirt. She looked so small next to him - frail, delicate and pale. Dark circles were visible under her lashes, and the weight she'd gained back was starting to fall away again. Eric had managed to coax a couple of meals into her, but wherever the hell her brain was, it'd kept her from enjoying them. He leaned down, closing his own eyes and resting his head next to hers. He didn't know what else to do right then. She was so preoccupied when her hands were still and hyper focused when they were out around the walls. When she laid down next to him at night, it felt like she was miles away, her dreams restless as she twitched and tossed. She was so quiet he'd found himself more than once checking to make sure she was still there, stretching out to touch her hair or rolling over in the night just to be certain she hadn't vanished on him again. He didn't think he could take that again, not after finally, _finally_ having reached the same page.

Initially, he'd thought it was just worry. There was a fuck ton of shit to be anxious over. The temperatures had plummeted in the last week, freezing over the small pond at the center of the community and causing most of the trees to crack and pop under the weight of the newly forming ice. This winter was going to be rough, especially if they couldn't get a handle on the group to the west. The fuckers had apparently gone underground for the time being. Probably building up their own resources for the coming months. That or they were planning something. Daryl was willing to bet on both.

As carefully as he knew how, he turned her around and leaned her back against the counter. Taking the hem of her shirt between his fingers, he pulled it over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up and he caught the corner of her mouth with his for just a second. Her hands came up to loop around his neck and he bent so that she could press her forehead against his.

"I'm so tired of thinkin'," she murmured. "It's like m'head figured out how and can't quit."

"Reckon it's tryin' t'tell you somethin'."

The laugh she gave was husky and soft. "Yeah, reckon so. I'm just...I dunno." She pulled back enough to look up at him, her skin warm and smooth where he settled his hands on her waist. "I keep goin' over it. Glenn and Maggie and those people out there with their damn walkers and everythin' we saw up in the mountains. What the hell are they waitin' on?"

The question rushed out of her as she suddenly scowled. Daryl rolled his shoulders. "Ain't got a damn clue." His mouth ticked up slightly when she chuffed again. "I know you don't like it. I don't either."

"And we can't go out again t'try and see wha' they're doin'," she said quietly, dropping her fingers down to the waistband of his trousers and plucking apart the buttons that held his shirt closed.

He shrugged out of it with a low sound of agreement, tossing it carelessly onto the floor and kicking it to the side. "Probably ain't nuthin' left of tha' barn no ways. S'much shit tha' fell last week, it ain't standin'."

"I meant 'cause it ain't safe enough," Beth replied, her lips starting to curl up too. She still looked tired as she could be, but that was a start. She was here with him right now.

He'd take that.

"Naw, probably ain't," he agreed, sliding his hands along the flat plane of her stomach to the catch of her jeans. The metal was damp under the pad of his thumb, steam finally beginning to fill the room. "They've probably got people all over them woods like we do. Kinda surprised there haven't been any run-ins t'be honest."

"I think everyone's bein' careful right now." Her palms were warm where they touched his chest, sweeping down his ribs and back up again. "With all the snow and as many folks we've got out in the open, watchin', I'd guess tha' they don't want to lose anymore people."

That they didn't either was left unspoken. It didn't have to be. Daryl closed his eyes again as she arched up and brushed her lips across his shoulder, creating a line of heat that curved towards his collarbone. Her fingertips tickled a little as she lightly skimmed them down to his belly button, making the muscles there jump.

Pretty Beth Greene with her sweet little mouth and her smell of summer.

Weaving one hand through her hair, he made another rough sound in his throat as she tipped her head back and kissed him languidly, her body relaxed and soft against his. It was slow, and he took the opportunity to map the soft contours of her mouth, catching her small pink tongue with his own. Lazily, he rolled his hips into hers, letting her feel what she did to him. His other hand moved to join the first, fisting loosely in her tumbling, wavy mane. Her arms were around his shoulders again, pulling him closer, arching into him. God almighty, she felt good. He loved it when she showed him this part of her because she was honey and heat and it was for _him_.

Pulling back, Daryl swept his hands down and tugged on her pants and she lifted her hips obligingly, shimmying a little so that both the denim and her panties fell to bunch around her feet. As she stepped out of them, he shucked his own, toeing out of his socks while she did the same. He dipped down and caught her mouth again, reaching to cup her bottom and easily lift her up. She left her legs dangling with a giggle, hanging on to his neck as he turned them around and walked to the shower. Using his elbow, he slid the door open then closed again, backing under the spray.

Beth's body slid against his as he let her down, the hardened tips of her breasts pressing against his chest as she leaned into him. She met his mouth halfway with hers, still slow, still intense, her hair hanging heavy and wet over his arm as he kept her close. He stroked her spine, squeezing the flesh of her hip before stepping further under the water, bringing her with him. Beth responded to every rough scrape of his calloused hands on her skin, little noises slipping past her lips into his mouth and just knowing that he was the one making her do that made his head swim. Breaking away to sink his teeth sharply into the softness of her neck, he abruptly turned her around, pressing her into the slick shower wall. His hands slapped against the tile on either side of her head, caging her before one inevitably snaked into her hair and wrapped thick ropes of it around his palm. With a sharp tug, Daryl made her head angle back, watching her face flush an even deeper shade of pink as he ground himself against her.

She pushed back against his hold and he tightened his grip, curling his larger frame over her to bite her shoulder warningly, a growl rumbling up from deep in his chest. His dick throbbed when she immediately growled back, darkened blue eyes flashing as she deliberately undulated against him again. Her calves flexed as she stretched up on her tiptoes and dragged the softness of her pretty little ass along his hardness until the tip of him just touched the hot center of her. Then she dropped back down, wriggling in a way that had him clenching his teeth, the need to bury himself in her rapidly stripping him of what little control he had.

That was when he noticed her dangerously nimble fingers had worked between them, nails lightly digging into his thigh before sliding up to caress the length of him. Snatching her hand away, he held her wrist and pinned it to her side. Daryl waited until she stopped squirming, his heart hammering against his ribs, hard enough to almost hurt. When she was finally still, he started to rock against her, falling into a shallow rhythm. Beth whined, moving with him, chasing the friction that would stop them both from aching. Satisfied she would stay where he wanted her, he guided her hand between her legs, his finger stretching along the line of hers, slipping through the coarse curls to rub the tiny bundle of nerves that made her keen for him.

Her head fell back against his shoulder and he released her hair, but only after he'd brushed most of it aside so he could watch her touch herself. His eyes zeroed in on where their hands were joined, his hips still moving as he stopped guiding her and slid his fingers further along her folds. He pumped one digit inside her, once, twice, checking to make sure she was ready because goddamn it, he was going to explode if he had to wait one more minute. She was snug and slick around his finger and he reached between them to stroke himself roughly.

Ducking his head to suck on the smooth patch of skin beneath her ear, Daryl bent at the knees, his hand fisting around himself and eased forward, thrusting in careful, stuttering strokes until he was sheathed inside her as far as he could go. Beth suddenly pushed back against him again, making him slid back as she bent at the waist, one hand braced on the wall as the other kept working at her clit. The motion pushed him to the hilt inside her and he rutted against her reflexively. Jesus _fuck_ , that was a sight, his eyes following the curve of her back up to where she was watching him over her shoulder, her mouth parted and swollen.

Her muscles were fluttering around him and he drove himself into her hand, his hands spasming around her waist as he leaned over her back. Heat was coiling tight at the base of his spine as he slammed into her, pressing his mouth against her shoulder, her ear, her back, wherever he could reach as he moved, muttering things that he couldn't tell say any other time. Beth was right there with him, murmuring as he dropped his forehead to rest against her wet hair with a shudder. Her fingers brushed against his shaft as she sped up her motions. With a sudden snap of her hips, she moaned, shivering as her climax rolled through her, clenching around him. Daryl wasn't far behind her, erratically quickening his pace until he felt his balls tighten up and he pulled himself back, spilling across the back of her thighs.

Unsteadily, Beth pushed herself up, leaning against the wall for support, both of them panting hard. Gingerly, she turned around between his arms as he braced himself behind her, so that she could face him. Curling her arms around his neck, she reached up and softly kissed him, a warmth in her eyes that made his stomach flip. He could see it, right there, everything he felt, all of it reflected back at him in clear, unflinching blue. Daryl dropped a hand to twine in her hair again, tugging on its end as she smiled and his thumb traced the sharp line of her cheekbone.

So fucking sweet.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Another chapter up and done! I'll likely be coming back to this chapter for some editing. I'm combing back through the story at large to correct typos that I missed and the like. Hopefully there aren't that many.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy and please let me know what you think! And thank you guys so much for the wonderful feedback from last chapter! :D

Beth breathed across her fingers as she stepped out onto the front porch, rubbing them together briskly. In the early morning darkness, the world hardly looked any different than when she'd walked inside the previous evening. Digging in her pockets, she pulled out her gloves and tugged them on just as Daryl walked out of the house. Unceremoniously, he stuck her borrowed beanie over the crown of her head. She made a small sound of protest as strands were suddenly shoved into her eyes, swiping them back with a glare. His mouth curved into something that was a cross between a smile and a smirk and she found herself mirroring the expression.

"What're you grinnin' at?" He asked her as he fished out his pack of cigarettes, tapping one out.

"Just feel like it," she said, pulling the beanie down snugly around her ears.

She was being completely honest too. It was the first time in several days that she'd felt this good. Her dreams had been distant last night, foggy on the edges and pleasant enough that she'd had a solid seven hours of real sleep. She'd woken up to the same world she'd drifted off in, but her head was in a better place this morning. The unease that had coiled in the back of her mind had loosened by the time she'd opened her eyes. It wasn't easy to let it go, because she knew that they were still in limbo, still playing the waiting game. But dwelling on it hadn't changed anything either. She hadn't felt like she could help it, and the concerns she held hadn't exactly been dismissed.

Beth was still worried as all hell, but it was easier to deal with that worry, and to look at it with clearer eyes than it had been. Not just because of the things she and Daryl had done last night, she thought, her cheeks coloring slightly, although he definitely deserved some credit. He given her comfort and distraction in equal measure, but more importantly, to her anyway, he hadn't invalidated her concern. He'd readily admitted that he was just as much at a loss for an action to take as she was, and that he'd liked it just about as much as she did too. They could watch and they could prepare, which was a helluva lot more productive than what she'd been doing, moving automatically while her mind was on other things. She just felt silly that it'd taken her so long to actually say anything about what had been bothering her. It could have saved her days worth of headaches, she admitted to herself ruefully.

It was still a struggle to open up, to anyone; she fought to let them in her head and to let the thoughts out. She'd gone so long with keeping everything to herself. Habit was one word for it. Suppression was another, putting everything in the same place and locking the door so she could focus on what other people needed her to do.

_We don't get to be upset. We all have jobs to do._

Why had it taken her so long to learn what that lesson had really been about?

Beth breathed deeply and scrubbed her cheeks with her gloves. Her face still mostly covered by scratchy wool , she turned to Daryl. "Ready?"

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, one shoulder rolling in a shrug. "Waitin' on you."

She snorted, sliding her hands down to tuck into the front pockets of her jacket. The steps leading down to the front yard were clear of snow, twin piles on either side of the pavement that led to the road. It was slick and Beth walked gingerly across its surface, her boots clicking on the concrete. Daryl's longer stride was audible slightly behind her, catching up on her right as she turned in the direction of the gate. The houses that lined either side of the street were dark for the most part, a light on here and there in some of them. Most people were only just starting to stir. As they passed the corner that led down towards where most of their family stayed, Beth idly wondered if Daryl ever considered moving back into one of those houses. She secretly hoped they would stay with Aaron and Eric. She'd grown pretty attached to their place, and the couple that lived there. It wouldn't be hard to consider it home.

She wondered if anyone would mind that. Daryl probably wouldn't. He was more relaxed there than she saw him anywhere else in the zone, except maybe when they were outside. She didn't see Aaron or Eric objecting either. They looked at Daryl with so much warmth, like he was a part of their small family. What did Eric call him? The outdoor cat they used to fed that had moved in. He'd said it with an easy smile, which Beth took to mean was genuinely affectionate teasing. Daryl had grunted, his ears turning a little red, but he hadn't denied it. The memory had her smile widening a little.

The streetlights cast orange and yellow ovals over the snow in regular intervals. Despite the massive drop in temperature, Beth was still somewhat surprised that it hadn't melted more by now. There were some places where it was nothing but slush, but for the most part, the banks were fairly intact, aside from the trails and footprints. Some streets had more foot traffic than others. The yard of the church had been completely churned into mush, as well as the general area around the pantry building. It made it hard to figure who had come from where, but that wasn't so much of a problem except at the gate. She and Daryl had spent more than a few hours trying to figure out the mess there, mostly because neither of them were terribly keen on only relying on reports from the people in the towers. Not all of them could be counted on to pay exceptional attention to who was coming and going. As dangerous a time as it was right now, some people just didn't get it. They still had the mentality that their little community was untouchable as long as they stayed behind the walls.

Maybe it was just how some of them coped, hoping that if they buried their heads far enough into the sand, the rest of the world would vanish. Beth reckoned that she could understand that, to a certain extent. Maybe it was why they were trying so hard to make Alexandria work. Well, maybe not Alexandria itself, but the illusion it afforded some of them. They could play pretend here. What she wasn't sure about anymore was what they were pretending to be.

Her musing was cut short as they reached the end of the street. As she turned her head away from the white-draped houses, she spied the still dark towers that framed the gate and her pulse jumped. At the corner of her peripheral, she saw Daryl stiffen. Beth sucked in a breath as he sprinted past her and she darted after him, splitting away as he dashed to the gate. The gate that was standing wide fucking _open_.

She scrambled up the ladder, pulling her pistol out as she clambered onto the platform of the first tower. Standing, Beth cursed. No one was on the second tower either. Where the hell was the watch? She moved to the railing, staring out towards the dark road that led away from the zone, scanning the black trees and charred buildings. There, movement.

The gate clanging shut distracted her for a second and she glanced down, then up again, zeroing in on where she'd seen a flicker of something just past a copse of pines. Shit.

"Daryl," she called down, keeping her eyes trained over the wall, slowly backing up. She could hear him grunt loudly as he worked the massive chain that had been looped through the bars. She called again, more insistently. "Daryl, it's a herd!"

"Fuck!"

Boots crunched on snow and gravel, the entire perch rattling as he slammed both hands onto each side of the ladder. "How many?"

"I can't tell," she said, her gun clenched in both hands and pointed down. It was about as useful as a stupid toothpick right now, but she felt better holding it. "Twenty, thirty, maybe more. They're comin' from the woods."

"Fast?"

"No, snow's slowin' 'em down."

"Here." She turned to look down at him as he tossed up his crossbow. "Watch 'em and take out wha' ya can."

Their eyes met for a tense second and then he was gone, running hard back up the street. Beth shoved her gun back into the waistband of her jeans and moved back to the railing. Gritting her teeth, she propped her boot on the lowest one, bracing her weight and bearing down all the strength she had to pull the bow's string back. Her muscles trembled as it clicked and she leaned down to snatch out one of his homemade bolts. She slid it into place, hefting up the weapon as she crouched and steadied it, balancing her elbows on the flat wood. She focused down the sight, watching as more and more walkers hobbled into view, breaking across the edges of the spotlights and her breath hitched.

God, there were so many.

She counted thirty-eight on the first pass, watching as they staggered through the snow, several falling only to be stumbled over by those behind them. On the second pass, the numbers had almost doubled, even as many of the them were getting trampled beneath the horde that was pushing in from behind. She jerked back suddenly as a bright red flare of light burst over the trees, blinking with watery eyes as it arced over her head. Shit, somebody was guiding those things?

Beth squinted, trying to readjust to the semi-darkness as she swept her gaze along the treeline, her heart sinking as more and more pushed their way forward through the woods, knocking into half-collapsed walls and snapping ice-coated branches. Scanning to the left, she angled up, searching for some kind of smoke trail. The flare had flown from a close range...there, just beyond the road. What she wouldn't give for a pair of binoculars right abo-

"Beth!"

Her head whipped around at her sister's voice, waving as Maggie rushed towards the gate. She shuffled back as her sister slung a hunting rifle over her head. Setting the bow down hurriedly, she reached out and closed her fingers around the gun just as Maggie reached the top of the ladder.

"More's comin', they're loadin' up at the armory. Here, take these too," she said breathlessly, shoving a box of bullets into her hand before dropping back down the rungs.

The box flicked open with pressure from her thumb at one edge and she grabbed several rounds, loading them into the chamber as fast as she could. Her heartbeat was a dull thud in her throat, thumping in time with every bullet's click. Maggie was already in the perch across from her and in seconds, Beth was in position, leaving the crossbow close to her knee in case she ran out of ammunition. She lined up her eye with the scope, peering towards where she thought the bright shot had come from.

Walkers were wobbling weakly from that direction too, their balance precarious, tenuous as they trudged through the snow. Many of them had familiar cuts on their foreheads, but not all of them. Too many. Until back-up actually showed up, there were too damn many to even make a dent. They'd just be drawn to the sound as well as the spotlights. Whoever had rocketed up that flare was a better mark. At least if she could take them out, it'd be worth the chance. A fresh kill was bound to be more tempting than a gunshot.

There was a flash, light catching on something and Beth swung the rifle towards it. It caught again, a brief flicker that disappeared behind a building, behind the stream of animated corpses. Her breathing slowed as her finger gently wrapped around the trigger. There it went again. Signal, maybe? She waited, counting the beats of her heart as the blood rushed in her ears. The world narrowed to the center of that hairline target at the end of the scope. She lined up where she saw the light go, drifting the barrel towards a broken window. With steady hands, she waited. There was a flurry of movement, dark shadows warped into shapelessness by the poor visibility. The light flashed, jumping to midway across the jagged pane.

Beth fired.


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This one was damn intense. I'm happy I got it done though! Thank you guys for all of the wonderful feedback! :D

"Rick! Get the fuck out here!"

Daryl was yelling at the top of his lungs, lights flicking on in the houses on either side of the sheriff's. Skidding on the slick concrete, he caught himself and kept going, pounding across the front stoop. He slammed his shoulder into the door as he yanked on the knob, bursting through it and into the house.

"Rick! Michonne! Get your asses down here!"

Carl was the first one to appear at the banister on the second floor. His eyes were wide, his skinny fingers wrapping tightly around the wood.

"What's goin' on?"

"Walkers," Daryl said tersely, reaching the bottom of the staircase and coming up a few steps to point up past him. "Get 'em up!"

He nodded and darted back down the hall as Daryl turned around. Glenn was coming through the corridor that wrapped around the back of the staircase.

"We heard," he jerked his head in the direction he came as he buckled his gun belt around his hips. "Maggie's gone out the back to the gate. Figured if Beth wasn't with you, then she was back there."

Daryl clamped down on the relief that brought him and reached out to grab the younger man's shoulder in passing. "Thanks."

Glenn's tight-lipped smile was an understanding one, but Daryl didn't give himself the room in his brain to process it. Dull thuds could be heard over their heads. Satisfied that Rick was getting his ass moving, he grabbed Glenn and hauled him out the door. They ran through the snow, taking the shortest route to the armory, between the houses on the other side of the street. Drifts had piled high against its walls, but the slim path to the door had been cleared. Ripping off a glove, he jiggled the lock, hissing when the icy metal seared his palm.

"Shit!"

A gunshot cracked through the air, making both men stiffen. It was quickly followed by another and then Daryl was snatching the pistol Glenn was wearing at his hip out of its holster. As he moved to the side of the door, a third and fourth pop echoed the first two and his muscles clenched. Metal exploded as he blew a hole in the thin wood, the mangled lock hitting the ground with a sharp clink. He almost wished another shot would echo, give him a reassurance that the sisters were giving the herd hell.

Rick trotted up from around the corner as Daryl swung the door open wide, flanked by several people who were still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. They woke the fuck up when he and Glenn started shoving rifles into their hands.

"Grab whatever you can carry," Rick was calling out orders and people were hustling to follow them.

A volley of gunshots rattled through the building, an automatic rifle's distinctive rapid fire a counterpoint to slower, more deliberate blasts, probably that of a high-powered or hunting rifle. There was a frenzy of activity as Daryl tossed boxes of ammunition, knives, whatever the hell he could reach. More people were coming in, mobilized by the racket coming from the gate and the frantic runners that were bolting up and down the streets rousing the entire community. Granted, that wasn't all that many people, and with a sweep of his eyes over those gathered, he could see that some had elected to hole up in their homes. It frustrated him, but there wasn't shit he could do about it.

There was another bang, louder this time and it reverberated through the walls of Alexandria, bouncing back and forth over the tin and steel - deafening, thunderous, bone jarring. Daryl shoved bullets into his jacket and hauled ass back out the door, a hatchet on his hand and a gun slung across his back. Michonne turned as he ran past, shouting something to someone behind her before taking off after him, her fingers closing around the sword on her own back.

Gunfire was coming in steady bursts now. People were yelling ahead of them and he could see figures rushing back and forth in front of the gates. His stomach dropped when he saw that they were crooked, wire and steel beams hanging over their defenders' heads haphazardly. The noise of the herd was a low, constant growl as they pressed their crumbling corpses against the walls, making the metal groan and bulge. Portions of the gates had already buckled, the wheels twisting sideways and the chain that held it closed stretched taut as the press of the dead bent the wire mesh inwards.

Daryl chanced a glance towards the left tower and saw a flash of blonde hair as Beth angled her body right, crouching over the railing and aiming a gun over the wall. His crossbow was slung over her shoulder. For the moment, she was as whole and safe as he'd left her. He forced his eyes back down, shoving the small axe into his belt and pushed his way to the line holding the gates, both hands flat against the thin burlap that covered the inner one.

"Make 'em squeeze through," he barked. "Couple at a time, control the fuckin' flow!" He flung an arm out. "Get more people up in them towers! Pick the sumbitches off!"

Gunshots were peppering the air above their heads as Sasha and a couple others pulled away from the group at the gate, heading towards the perches. Michonne drew her sword, her expression hard as she swept her eyes over those left, silently sizing them up.

"Don't waste bullets," she told them tersely, her voice lifting to be heard over the horde outside and settling herself into a familiar, practiced stance. "You got a knife, use it. You don't, keep control next to Daryl."

Daryl shifted closer to the end, curling his hand around the chain that was the only thing keeping the herd out at this point. The other held on to the main beam, tense as he waited. A line formed beside him, mimicking his hold, but the majority moved to where Michonne directed them. He could hear Beth and Maggie over the din, getting people in the positions they needed while simultaneously keeping up the pressure.

"You get bit, fall back," Michonne said, her tone clipped.

It was the only warning she gave, nodding to Daryl and he jerked the metal links free, letting them clatter to the road. The initial wave shoved themselves through with their teeth snapping, dead eyes rolling in their heads. The first one grabbed at him and he easily sidestepped out of its reach. A slender young woman with short black hair stabbed it cleanly through the back of the skull and it dropped, its body already lost under the trampling feet of its brethren. The walkers strained against the small opening, shoving their combined weight against the small group of defenders on the others side. Daryl's muscles had snapped into rigidity, his feet firmly planted on the asphalt. Sweat was dripping down the side of his face, freezing cold against his skin. More walkers stumbled through the narrow opening, forcefully funneled into almost single line.

Maggie's voice called down in warning, "More's comin'!"

The words had barely registered before there was a surge of pressure against the gate. Rotten-smelling bodies were being pressed against the tarp, faces mouthing into the fabric, searching for something to bite onto. Despite the thickness of his gloves, Daryl could feel every bump and scrape against the back of his knuckles. Merle's gravel tone was cursing in a steady, colorful stream in his head, but he couldn't waste the effort to even mutter one; it was all he could do to just keep a hold on what he had.

Thick, wet gunk hit the back of his head as someone sliced through a walker's face like an overripe melon. The man next to him made a choked sound, turning his face away and retching.

"Puke, but don't you fuckin' _move_ , you hear me?" Daryl snarled at him.

The guy nodded vigorously, swallowing hard in an obvious attempt to keep everything down. Shots were still ringing out and he could hear the crunch of snow as walkers fell like dropped stones. More people were coming, their boots scraping on the pavement and Daryl sagged a little as a half dozen of them reinforced the line. The added manpower helped, but more walkers were struggling to push their way through, lured by the noise and light. A bulky one with half its head missing lurched through, its arms outstretched as it was pushed further in by the ones behind it. It swayed in his direction, gurgling and gasping oddly in its throat.

"Shit," Daryl hissed, dropping one hand from the gate to the axe on his belt and pulling it out.

Adjusting its grip, he ducked under the walker's clumsy reach, planting his weight forward and burying the hatchet blade in its skull. With a grunt, he tried to pull it back out, but it held firm as the thing sunk to the ground. More were pouring in now, slipping through faster than they could kill them. There were just too fucking many. Another one was already damn near on top of the walker he'd just killed, gnashing its teeth and leaning in to snap at him. Daryl jerked back, forced to relinquish his hold on the gate altogether.

Abruptly, its head was thrust back. It made a strangled moan and then crumpled, falling over in a heap across the first one. Daryl glanced up over his shoulder and saw Beth standing at the edge of the perch, lowering the gun in her hands with a fierce scowl on her features. He didn't have time to do more than quickly lift a hand, their eyes meeting for a split second before he had to turn back around and deal with the swarm of dead that was still working their way inside.

The guns were going off like a heartbeat, round after round firing into the mass outside. With no way to be sure right then, he could only guess at the actual numbers out there, but from what he could hear, it was goddamned bad. As he backed up, angling for room to swing, he caught sight of Carol and Rosita, their clothes caked with brown and black fluid. Daryl maneuvered towards them, slashing through a female walker's soft temple as he went. Out of the melee, Rick materialized, sliding into a position next to him as they worked themselves into a tight circle.

"Keep them comin' this way!" Rick yelled up to the perch they were under. "Keep them off the walls!"

"There's too many!" Sasha hollered back, the end of her gun smoking. "They're pushin' in tryin' to get inside!"

Abraham's gruff, enthusiastic bellow boomed over the din. "Then we take it to 'em!"

"We'll get slaughtered out there," Carol snapped at him, a little breathless as she yanked her knife out of a young-looking walker. "At least in here, we can control the fightin'."

The big man's reply was almost cheerful as he plowed his fist into a man's face that looked like it had been mauled. "We're fucked if we don't do somethin'!"

"Get more guns on the walls," Rosita suggested, panting.

"From where?" Carol asked brusquely, taking the precious second to wipe her blade off so it didn't become so slick she ended up slicing her own hand. "We don't have enough people t'spare for tha'."

Daryl straightened up from his position, breathing hard as the number of walkers thinned, still mostly attracted to the gate. Less of them were slipping through now, and he could see their silhouettes on the ground, dispersing in different directions as the people in the towers continued to fire into the horde. The walls groaned, metallic bangs echoing the guns as the walkers groped at the tin, searching for a way in, or up. They couldn't keep this up much longer, not at this pace, they didn't have th-

"Rick! Daryl!"

His head snapped up to see Beth pointing over the wall, her face stricken. That was when he heard it, the distinct rumble of diesel engines. For the second time in the span of twenty minutes, his belly dropped and he sprinted to the opening in the gate, ramming his hand axe viciously into a walker's head, the edge biting into the tin and pinning the creature against the wall with a shudder. Through the break in the endless stream of monsters, through the rabble that shuffled back and forth like they were being pushed by a current, he could see two, powerful beams of light flashing over the burned out houses. His hand tightened where it gripped the side of the gate.

Whatever the fuck they were doing, they needed to do it now.


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one was late, guys. I had some pretty bad things crop up with my family all at once. Everyone's alright, but it was touch and go with some things for a couple of days. I'm sitting quietly at work now with a lot of downtime so I was able to do some writing. Thank you guys so much for the love and support and I hope y'all enjoy!

Beth scrambled to get to the ladder, dropping the rifle and snatching up Daryl's crossbow as she went. Her foot snagged on one of the uneven rungs on the way down, nearly causing her to tumble backwards and forcing her to stop in order to get it loose. Precious seconds wasted, she tried to make up for it when she hit the ground, darting under a walker's ungainly swipe and drawing her knife in one sinuous movement. She sliced through the back of its skull, yanking out the blade viciously. It dropped like a brick. Beth turned and ran to the opening in the gates, handing Daryl his weapon as she skidded to an abrupt stop on the icy slush.

He took it from her and immediately twisted to ram its bulk into the face of another walker, brutally stomping through bone and brain when it fell. Beth killed another as it lumbered in, thinning the seemingly endless stream of dead as quickly as she could. The thick gloves made it difficult to get a proper grip on her knife so she quickly ditched them. Cold bit into her skin, stung like hooked teeth sinking into her flesh as soon as her hands were exposed and she inhaled sharply. The hair trapped beneath her collar, held under the fabric to keep it from being a hindrance, scratched at her back ticklishly, the ends dragging across the width of her spine as she moved. Truck engines revved, a shuddering rumble that could be heard over the cacophony growls and snarls. Through the gap between the gates and the wall, Beth caught flashes of headlights, glaring beams of light that were steadily growing in size and brightness. Despite that, it didn't seem to distract the walkers much, dozens of them still shambling towards the walls.

"Daryl!" Rick's voice boomed out from behind them, urgent and hoarse.

The number of walkers was rapidly reaching unmanageable, but closing the gates right then was damn near impossible. Too many were flowing through, and too many were pressing in. It was all people could do to hold it in the same position and keep the rest of them from being overrun. There wasn't another soul to spare either, not while corpses were still working their way inside. They were cutting them down like scythes in a wheat field and they weren't even making a damn dent. It was like trying to stem the roll of high tide. Beth viciously stabbed her knife through the underside of a walker's jaw as Daryl slammed his through the skull of another. A third curled it's clawed fingers into her sleeve, its ragged nails biting into the thick material and she savagely thrust the blade's point through its eye socket.

All of them sunk to the snow, and their bodies were almost immediately replaced by three more. The gates squealed, protesting being forced wider, but it was either open them further or let them collapse under the strain. Shots were still snapping off like firecrackers overhead, their impromptu snipers desperately working to dispatch as many as they could before they vanished under the top lip of the wall and out of sight. Shadows were writhing wildly across the ground, slithering over the snow and through the space between the wall and the gates. The glow from the trucks back-lit the walkers, turning them black, elongating their forms and making them appear even more misshapen and bizarre.

Her hand slipped as Beth slid it through a woman's rotting scalp, gore making the leather-wrapped hilt slippery and slick. Her thumb caught on the serrated edge, ripping a gash across the pad and making her hiss in pain. She bent to wipe both it and the blade as clean as she could on a dead man's filthy shirt. It was all the time she could spare for either as more wormed their way inside. Daryl and Michonne dispatched them in quick, hard strikes, forcing the others back out beyond the wall.

Rick's voice whipped out again. "Close it!"

With the wheels bent all to hell, what should have been simple then became nearly impossible. Weighing two tons if it weighed a pound, the gates inched closed by degrees.

Daryl called out a warning as he and Michonne furiously cut down the ones that tried to push forward. "They're comin'!"

Shoving the knife back into its sheath, Beth scrabbled into a spot between the big, bearded man called Harley and a petite, lithe woman with short dark hair. She shoved into the bar that divided the back half of the gates, pulling until her shoulders and arms burned. Her boots stuttered in the muddy slush, the soles worn too smooth to manage much grip. Grunts of exertion mingled with the grind of metal, and over it all was the chaotic spurts of gunfire and roaring diesel engines. The walkers' raspy moans were all but drowned out under the ear-splitting racket. Every shot was a thrumming vibration in her ears, piercing into her skull as the gates groaned. Daryl was hacking at the dead now with the hatchet, swinging left, right and back again as Michonne covered him to the side, each forward stab devastatingly precise. The bodies were piling up behind the tarp. Beth caught glimpses of them as she bent her head, the muscles of her back bunching as she pulled.

Finally, _finally,_ the gates began to crawl, inching towards the opposing wall until Daryl, with Michonne still covering his flank, could loop the chain back through the bars. Her arms felt as if they were held together with wet string when Beth let go and turned, relieved to see the last of the walkers that were still inside hitting the snow in a flurry. A rapid scan indicated very few casualties, but she wasn't going to hold her breath just yet. The people on the towers were still shooting over the wall; they hadn't even slowed down. Rick was barking at those who were still on the ground, ordering batches of people west and east, towards the other perches they'd built away from the gates. With the threat of the dead no longer inside the walls, the chaos was calming slightly. She moved to the ladder leading up to the tower on the right.

She yelled up, "How many trucks?"

Maggie's head poked over the side, her hands busily re-loading her automatic rifle. "I counted four, but I can't tell if there's more behind 'em or not. They're idlin' just up the road and I ain't seen nobody get out of 'em yet. Mostly, it's just walkers out there."

When Beth turned to relay, Rick was already beside her, pointing up to her sister as he strode by. "Keep yer eyes on 'em!"

Beth hurried after him, figuring that he'd have something in mind he needed her to do. Her hand moving to the pistol that was still nestled at the small of her back as she joined the big, ruddy-faced man called Abraham and the comparatively diminutive young woman, Rosita. Groups of people were running up and down the length of the wall, their hands filled with weapons and boxes of ammunition. Expressions ranged widely, from terrified to reluctant to just damn cold, but every single one of those faces held a note of grimness in them. Many of them had their hair matted, dank now with blood or bits of what used to be people. Their features were peppered with it, their clothes stank with it as they passed. Sheep with their curly, frothy-looking coats sullied in their panic. Except they weren't. There was an edge to them, she noticed. Fine, flinty, probably brittle in many cases, but it was there. And none of them were panicking. Maybe there were enough wolves living among them that they'd come out at the other end of the night mostly intact. God, she doubted it, but she could still hope like hell that would end up being the case.

She saw Carol standing with several other women, demonstrating in sharp, swift motions how to load the rifle that was in her hand. Their heads bobbed when she asked them a question and she handed the gun to one of them before twisting around and spotting them. She trotted towards them just as Rick twisted to look at them over his shoulder.

"Abraham, get these people organized on the walls."

The red-headed bull of a man nodded shortly and signaled Rosita with a flick of his fingers, the two of them breaking off in a jog. Beth moved closer and reached out to touch Rick's shoulder, drawing his attention.

"Are we lookin' at the prison again?" she asked, her even voice masking the cold clench in the belly.

There might not have been a tank outside their gates, but she couldn't help but draw the comparison. The feeling was the same, even if things weren't happening in the same order. She was expecting to hear a voice calling Rick's name from outside at any minute. That the same thought had crossed Rick's mind was evident in the tight set of his features.

"I dunno yet," he told her, his rumbling drawl grim. "Far as I know, they ain't got any of ours."

"So what are they doin'?" Carol asked from the other side of him.

"I ain't sure," Rick answered, and it was obvious that he didn't like saying it.

"They've gotta know we see them," she said, her arms folding as she put one leg back, settling her weight on it. "Are they waitin' on more trucks?"

"Feels like a siege," Beth murmured, her fingers drumming along the curve of her pistol's handle. She ticked her chin towards the wall beside them. "Someone shot a flare right before the bulk of the walkers hit the gates, like they were guidin' 'em here."

There was crunching behind her as she spoke, and she angled her body to the side, glancing over as Daryl trudged through the snow towards them. "You thinkin' they brought 'em outta the quarry?" he asked her gruffly.

"Yeah," she said, then lifted her shoulders. "But I don't see 'em as havin' kept the numbers they did jus' t'take out a portion of them for this attack." She pointed as she turned back towards Rick and Carol. "Tha's jus' part of what they've got out there."

"I remember y'all tellin' us there were hundreds trapped down in it."

"Think a thousand, easy," Daryl replied, narrowing his eyes. "What we killed out there was just a fuckin' drop in the bucket."

Carol and the sheriff exchanged a hard look and that was when a chilling thought took root in Beth's mind. Her eyes flew to Rick. "How many people do we have on the back wall?"

She watched Rick's frown deepen. "Supposed t'be two to three on each perch, so somewhere rou-" He cut himself off as he stared at her and drew in a harsh breath. "Jesus, you're thinkin' they're gonna open two fronts?"

"Or more," she said, talking fast as she grabbed his arm. "Rick, what if they're thinkin' of surroundin' us?"

"They've got the numbers t'do tha' with just walkers, never mind people," Carol breathed, her eyes wide with alarm.

"They ain't gon' have an easy time climbin' over the walls, but they won't have to if the damn tin buckles," Daryl bit out.

"Get over t'armory and see wha' we've got. Assault rifles, anythin' tha' can mow the bastards down," Rick said, stabbing his index finger towards the south as he started moving again. "I'll send anyone we can spare t'ya."

He turned and started running along the wall, his colt python out and at his side. Carol took off after him. Daryl tugged on the sleeve of Beth's sweater and she ran with him, her heart hammering and a prayer in the back of her mind that she was wrong.


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one took so long to get up guys. I'm juggling a lot of things right now and carving out writing time when I can. Still, I hope you guys enjoy! Thank you so much for reading, leaving feedback, and the love! :)

Beth kept up the pace beside him as they booked it towards the armory. Daryl signaled to a group that was passing them, heading in the opposite direction towards the gates. After a terse exchange, they fell in behind him. The building didn't have much left in terms of weapons. Most of the rifles had already been plucked up and hauled to the front of the zone, but there was plenty of ammo left.

"Grab what you can carry," Daryl growled at the people standing in the doorway.

They snapped forward at his order, snatching up boxes, pistols, anything else they could fit in their hands or carry in their clothing. For himself and Beth, he took two of the few remaining guns off their racks. A pair of ancient automatics, 58's that somebody, probably Glenn, had scavenged out of an armory of some deserted military base. Fuckers still worked, that was good enough. He tossed one to Beth. She caught it with both hands, slipping its strap across her torso and bouncing on the balls of her feet to adjust its weight. Daryl popped a couple flash bangs in his jacket pockets, thinking it was possible to distract at least a few walkers with them if the opportunity came up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beth hurriedly stashing away grenades and a couple of familiar looking knives, small and black-bladed. She slipped those into her boots just as the others started to gather at the door.

The back wall was damn near empty of any other people, maybe one or two in each of the perches. Splitting the group up, he sent most of them up as well, warning them gruffly to keep their eyes on the woods and to blow the head off of whatever the fuck moved out there. If Beth was right, there was going to be a shit ton of walkers heading towards them.

"C'mon," he said to her, squeezing her shoulder as he led them towards the far end of the back wall.

It was mostly dark in the corner, the light from the streetlamps unable to reach quite that far. Rick had been talking for weeks about getting lights up on the actual wall, like they had at the gate, but it'd been low priority since the storm. At night, the perch was damn near useless. Without a flashlight that was bright as the fucking sun, it was almost impossible to see much of anything. Damn if they didn't have much of a choice now though.

Beth's hands were bumping against the heels of his boots as he clambered up the rungs. Might not could see much but hopefully they could hear anything coming.

His gloved fingers grip the railing like steel bands, hard enough that he can feel the ache in his knuckles. The dark beyond the top of the tin was like a sheet of black ice, solid and cold. The butt of his crossbow was balanced against his side, unloaded as he tried to get his bearings. Night painted the trees into a single wall of pine and snow, morphing the landscape into something unrecognizable. It was like looking at something out of a nightmare, a suffocating wall that was pressing in.

And it didn't help that he couldn't hear shit over the pops of bullets from behind them. God fucking dammit.

Beth's features were tight, her lips pinching into a pale line as she moved to the opposite corner. What little amount of her hair that wasn't caught beneath her beanie or the collar of her jacket was white in the thin moonlight.

"Wha'cha got?" He tossed over his shoulder.

Her answer was a short, sharp bite of words. "Jack shit."

"Same."

Daryl could hear the rustling swish as she pulled her rifle up and off her back. His eyes adjusted by degrees, the color of the woods becoming lighter, lifting some of the pitch coating the treeline that encroached on the zone. He scowled over the wall, hoping like hell that Beth was wrong. They were fucked otherwise. The walls couldn't hold up against the kinds of numbers they'd seen in the quarry. They could slow 'em down, maybe even divert them if they were lucky enough, but the sons of bitches were being _driven_ towards them out front. No reason to think they wouldn't be on the back end either, if that was the plan. It'd be fucking effective of wiping them out, but there wouldn't be much left after. It might have been the point, but he didn't see why, not with the potential of the place.

Beth's hand gripped the back of his jacket and gave a hard tug. When he turned, she was pointing out towards the left, up along the wall just around the corner.

"Listen."

It took a good thirty seconds to filter out the background noise still coming from behind them, but then he could hear them. He glanced at Beth with a slow nod, the lead weight in his stomach dropping to the pit. "They're comin'."

"Southeast," she said quietly. "They circled around."

"Shit." He scrubbed a hand across his mouth, letting out a harsh breath as he turned his body towards hers. "Aright. Get down to the gates and let Rick know. You see any of those guys he's sendin' this way, put 'em on the east wall."

Her jaw set as he talked. "What're you gonna do?"

"Pick off what I can, see if I can figure out where the fuckers are pushin' 'em this way," he said gruffly.

There was a pause before she dipped her head in acknowledgement. He could tell that she didn't like it. Hell, he didn't like it either. Both of them knew he'd be fucking lucky as the devil to put a bolt or a bullet through anything that hadn't already died once, but goddamnit, he didn't know what the fuck else to do. They couldn't go out there in the dark, not with this kind of herd roaming, not without knowing where the bastards that were guiding them could be or how many of _those_ fuckers were out there. It was just too damn risky and if he didn't think he could keep his own ass safe out there, there was no way in hell he was going to ask anyone else to go out there.

Daryl reached around her and fisted a hand in her hair, tipping her head back so that he could look at her in the eye. He didn't say anything, he wasn't sure he could. He could hear the snarls echoing up, the sound drifting up over both the east and south walls. In the dimness, it was hard to see more than the shine in her irises and the shadows that played across her features in bands of silver and grey. Tightening his grip for a quarter of a second, he held her there. Then he let go and she was gone over the side, along with all of the air in his lungs.

With a deep breath, he filled them again and slung his bow to the boards. The rifle he'd snatched up had a scope, but it wasn't fitted with night vision so he was pretty much sighting down a long tunnel of black that had no end, like he hadn't even taken off the cap. Short and wide-lensed, its range wasn't much to start with, but he figured the lack of light was going to work to his advantage; easier to spot one of those flares Beth'd seen. Shades of black moved in the dark, small flickers of movement of black on black that caught his eye. The walkers were starting to stumble through the snow between the trees. His heartbeat jumped as he watched the numbers rapidly start to grow. Daryl pulled back from the scope, swearing before swinging it right, towards the south wall. Movement was coming from there too.

Fuck, she'd been right.

The ladder rattled behind him, making him turn in time to see Carol stomping up to the perch, shoving a rifle nearly as tall as she was up ahead of her. Balancing his weight, he reached out with one hand and helped her up.

"Beth said you needed another pair of eyes," she said, looking around before leaning down to scoop up the gun. "You can't see crap up here."

Wordlessly, he pointed down over the top of the wall, one hand on her shoulder. She leaned forward to follow the line of his finger, peering. A curse flew out of her mouth and she moved away from him to set up her rifle on the east side of the tower railing. The walkers' moans were clearly audible now, loud enough to almost drown out the noise still coming from the gates.

"You see a light, take the fuckin' shot," Daryl said, his voice gravel as the tension coiled his muscles tight enough to snap.

He could hear the thuds and bangs as bodies started to hit the wall, clawed hands scraping and slapping against metal. The tin creaked and snapped, reverberating. Daryl scanned over the top of the gun, foregoing the scope to try and get an idea of how many of the dead were coming on the south side before he ticked his chin down to probe the woods for a sign of anything living on the move, a flash or flicker of light. A click cracked from across the perch.

"Your eleven o'clock," Carol murmured, just loud enough for him to pick up the words.

He swiveled at the same time she did and used her position to dial in on whatever she'd spotted. Then he saw it, a round glow that bobbed between the pines, like a flashlight or lantern that lit up the trunks and the snow. Then it went went out as quickly as it appeared. He slid the rifle right, tracking in his head where he quickly reckoned whoever was behind it likely was. Squeezing the trigger, he braced as the kickback set into the crook of his shoulder. The muzzle lit up, illuminating the horde that was gathering on either of side of the corner under the perch. Their snarls grew in pitch, taunted and lured by the barrel flash. Over it all, a shrill cry of pain lanced through the trees before it was abruptly cut short.

The walkers were piling against the walls now, hard enough that the tower was starting to sway. Daryl hung on to the railing, Carol next to him as they searched the woods for another sign of light moving. Their heads snapped right as one of the bracing beams groaned on the other side. The perch was rocking now, walkers pouring from both directions and pushing themselves against the wall.

Suddenly a flare sprang up and over the trees, arching neatly in their direction. The shot was immediately followed by another, launched from deeper in the woods. It was like someone was flipping a switch, the writhing mass of bodies below ratcheting up from mild interest to ravenous. They threw themselves against the metal barrier, trampling over one another, the herds' focus narrowing down to a single objective.

Bring the wall down.

Daryl grabbed Carol around the waist, dropping the gun and pressing his hand over hers on the railing as he heard the tin screech.

"Hang on, the fucker's gonna give!"


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this up for y'all as fast as I could so you wouldn't be dangling on that cliffhanger forever! Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts! Thank you guys so much! :)

Her heart was in her throat as her feet pounded on the snowy pavement, her boots sinking into the powder. The rifle was weighing her down. Beth held onto the strap with both hands and yanked it down, pulling the length of the gun up and over to her shoulders, trying to at least keep the butt from jostling the revolver she had tucked into the back of her jeans. As she ran down the street, it sounded as though the entire community had already been overrun. The streets were deserted, people either holed up in their homes or already taking up a position. Carol had been the only one she'd seen and that was just because she'd passed back by the armory. Snarls and groans and gunfire bounced between the houses, ringing in her ears and drowning out her ragged breathing as she fought to gain momentum.

The sun would be coming up in less than an hour, lending better visibility but she doubted they had that kind of time. It'd taken everything she'd had to uproot her feet off that perch and leave Daryl at the back wall. It was taking everything she had now not to turn around and go back. They needed to get out, they needed to get _everyone_ out. The zone wasn't going to survive the destruction when the walls came down. All it would take was the right number of walkers, or a lucky grenade or a pair of damned metal shears to make the walls around Alexandria completely useless. In all honesty, she was just waiting for the bone-shaking boom.

The gates were in sight. She could see Rick and Michonne directing people from the tower on the right side in between firing their weapons over the edge of the wall. People were still scurrying through the snow as fast as their legs could carry them. As they passed in front of the broken barrier, it quivered and warbled on the one good hinge it had left. It was a matter of minutes before it came down and they all knew it. Abe's booming voice was barking something from the left tower where he was hunkered down with Sasha, Maggie and a couple others, but she was too far away to make out what he was calling out. The dead howled outside, worked into a craze by the light and sound that beckoned them with promises of easy flesh, but their cacophony couldn't drown out the scream of metal as the gates shuddered.

Her boots slid to a stop in the slush just at the last streetlight as she watched the bars begin to move downwards, the gates twisting under itself. Panic shot adrenaline through her body like a shock wave as the sound of trucks that had been little more than a low rumbles was thrown into a roar. She cupped her hands over her mouth as she sprang forward again.

"They're gonna ram the gate!" The words were lost in the din, and utterly pointless because it was clear that the people on the perches could see what was happening.

The whine of a stressed diesel engine was ear-splitting, but the thunderclap of its impact into the gate was deafening.

Beth dug into the snow, scrambling as the left tower started to sway, the rickety wood that was holding it to the wall splintering. She could see her sister's face, grim but wide-eyed with a fear she was barely holding at bay as she clung to the railing. Sasha pulled the other woman into her and turned just as the whole thing began to dangerously teeter. The noise outside rose again and the only reason Beth could even register it was because she could feel her body tremble with the force of it. Headlights were blazing through the thin burlap that covered the inner gate, the tin that had insulated it peeled and curled back like ripped paper. The beams outlined those bodies that hadn't taken a single step to move out of their path, their fetid blood smeared across metal and cloth like black tar. Shades swayed on the edges of the yellowed tunnels of light as the herd regrouped and surged forward again at the sides of the truck.

The people on Rick's tower were shooting over the wall, some of them clearly taking aim at the walkers, and others were popping off rounds towards the truck. The sound of glass fracturing was barely audible beyond the blood rushing in her ears as Beth darted towards her sister's perch. She couldn't have been more than twenty yards from it when the old wood holding it up gave. Her legs felt like they were coated in molasses as the tower's stilts collapsed. She watched helplessly as its occupants launched themselves away from the wall as best they could, frantic to avoid being crushed or impaled by the perch's beams as they cracked apart like twigs.

Sasha kept her body tight against Maggie's, wrapping her arms around her as they dropped to the earth like stones. They fell heavily into the snow and Beth made a beeline for them, tossing her rifle aside as she skidded to an abrupt stop next to them and hit the ground with her knees.

"Maggie?!"

At the feeble moans both women made, a flood of relief washed through her body so quickly it nearly left her limp. Then she was tugging as firmly as she dared, she worked to disentangle them, pulling her sister off Sasha, who was gasping for air.

"Hang on, hang on, you got the wind knocked out of ya," she said as she checked them over.

Sasha's foot was lying at an odd angle and when she made a move to push herself up, Beth clamped her arms down, pinning her.

"Hang on, just stay still a minute," she repeated, angling her head over her shoulder to look at Maggie.

"You ok?"

The brunette nodded, her hand resting protectively on her belly as she sat up. "Don't think anythin's broken."

"Aright, we gotta get Sasha t'the clinic, she's got a bad foot injury here." She spoke in brisk, clipped tones, the horror and terror tucking themselves into the back of her mind. She'd deal with them later. Her voice lifted. "Anybody else hurt?"

"All counted for, mostly just bruises," Abraham bellowed from the edge of the tower debris as he pulled a beam off a man.

"Help Maggie, I gotta get Rick."

She was grateful that he didn't question her, just grunted as he steadied the man next to him before starting to trot in the women's direction. Glancing over her sister one final time, she squeezed her arm and left them to it, bending down to retrieve her rifle and sling it across her back once again. The gates were given a wide berth as she eyed them suspiciously. It was hanging on by hardly more than a nail and a prayer. If they went for it again, it was coming down.

Her hand rested on the rung at her shoulder and she called up the ladder.

"Rick!" His curly head poked over the edge of the perch and she jerked her head to the south. "They're comin' from all sides!"

"How many?"

"The walls ain't gonna hold!" She answered tersely.

He disappeared for a minute and she could barely hear him cursing. When he came back, he asked, "Where's Daryl?"

"In the back perch." She tightened her grip on the gun strap, already moving again. "Get whoever you can back there, he's gonna need help. If the wall comes down we're gonna be fightin' close!"

"Beth, ha-"

She didn't stay close enough to listen. Her mind wasn't on anything that was there anymore; not on her sister or the rest of her family or the gates or their chances. She'd put it away, let it all bled out into the back of her skull where she'd put everything else. One hand dropped down to the hilt of her knife as her legs pumped, heading back up the street she'd come. She saw Maggie and Sasha pass under one of the lights on the road that ran parallel to hers. They were alright. As long as Rick and the others had weapons, they were alright. They had a chance. She could have even made the same argument about Daryl.

_It's like you were made for how things are now._

_Yer gonna be the last man standing._

The screech of tires behind her made her spin around. Another motor was revving up and she realized what was happening at almost the exact moment she heard the crash of a second truck ramming into the back of the first. It slammed into the gates, tearing the last of its moorings and it hit the ground with a muffled clang. The second truck's driver didn't let up on the gas shoving the one in front mercilessly through, snow and bodies and muck crunching under the tires.

There was another crash from the south, louder, and echoed by a scream that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It sounded as though it'd been ripped right out of the vocal chords of a bobcat, a yowling, agonized inhuman cry like nothing she'd ever heard in her life. Her feet were moving before the thought even entered her head, instinct ratcheting up to the point that she couldn't even register what was going on behind her now. That knife was in her hand, and she'd dropped the rifle for the last time. Didn't want it. Didn't need it.

Another boom rattled the earth. She stumbled, caught herself, and ducked through a yard. She was closing in on the south end of the zone. Images, noises, smells, they were filtering past her awareness, flitting at the edges like phantoms that she didn't have time to catch. She didn't have the capacity to acknowledge them.

A walker stepped out from the dark, staggering into her line of vision and Beth viciously cut into its brain with a sideways thrust. A jerk of her wrist and the knife was back in her hand and she was still running, her chest and legs burning. The beanie on her head slipped off and was forgotten, wisps of her hair flying out from beneath her collar. The wall was looming at the end of the road, standing, but when she reached it and turned left, her stomach bottomed out. Huge portions of the wall had caved, tin and steel flat on the ground as walkers streamed over them, pouring in like water from a burst in a dam. The tower that had stood at the corner was gone, no trace of anything or anyone living in sight. To her right she could hear people shouting, shooting, screaming.

Dying.

Anxiety morphed in her gut, kindling into a heat that made her skin prickle as she frantically scanned the herd, locked in place by necessity and the emotions that she couldn't rein in. Her breath was coming in short gasps, her lungs barely able to hold any air. Her heart didn't feel like it was beating for a span of time that she couldn't measure.

_I'm not gonna leave you!_

The words were the pulse she was missing, knocking against her rib cage and replacing the muscle that no longer worked. The world was black and still and it engulfed her where she stood, knowing that it wasn't where she should have been. And when she could finally find it within herself to break the stillness, it was only with an explosion of movement that ripped out of the hole of fury and pain that had swallowed her.


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter up! Thank you guys for the encouragement to get this up and out today, it's gotta be some kind of record, three chapters in three days. I don't think I've been this quick with the updates since I started this story. ^_^

He didn't have a damn clue how that tiny woman pulled him out of that tower with walkers bearing down on them, but he wasn't about to start bitching about it.

With a wince, Daryl shifted a little more weight onto his right leg. A razor edge of tin had caught him when the perch had collapsed, slicing into the meat of his thigh damn near up to the hip. Couple shards were probably embedded in there too from the feel of it. Fucking lucky he hadn't been ham-stringed. Pretty sure he'd cracked at least one rib too. Carol had a nasty cut across her nose, but she'd come out in significantly better shape. He wasn't a God-fearing man by any stretch of the imagination, but he was willing to credit somebody for having had their hand on them to have come out of the other side of that without it being any worse.

The wall had toppled about the same time as the perch. Probably was what had knocked it loose from its anchors in the first place. In seconds, his field of vision had gone from a horde or corpses to blurs of black and white to just fucking black in the space of a goddamned breath. Next thing he knew, he was being hauled out from under a shit ton of beams and metal sheets with a hoarse voice calling his name. When his eyes had cleared, he was flat on his back looking up at short-shorn silver hair and thin arms wailing away at the walkers bearing down on them. Then Carol was wrapping her thick sweater around his leg and hauling his ass up, shouting at him to start moving.

She had one arm around his waist and was using her other hand to hold his in place around her shoulders. Hobbling, she guided him in between a couple of houses and he caught a glimpse of the herd behind not far behind them.

He could hardly see the snow for the dead, the walkers shambling through the breach and rapidly spreading out, quicker than he'd thought possible, lured by the light and sounds that were coming from every direction in the safe zone.

"If we can get you to the clinic, we can go from there," Carol murmured quietly as they moved into the shadows.

"If we get there," he grunted, frustration lending a harshness to his tone that he hadn't entirely intended but wasn't inclined to disguise at this point.

He was watching ahead of them, searching the street, the space between the houses across from them. Empty, but for how long? He could already hear the screaming, the sound ripped from their throats as their flesh was ripped from their bones. Their people were already dying and there wasn't shit he could do. Grinding his teeth, he pushed Carol to move faster. Denise was going to give him hell for it, but pop a couple of pain pills and a bit of threading and he was gone. He was barely willing to let her do that, but he needed to be numb, or at least enough that he could ignore the fucking throbbing.

"Hold up," she whispered, pulling them back towards the side of one of the houses.

Daryl balanced on his good leg, bracing a hand on the siding. Carol ducked from under him and bent down to adjust the makeshift tourniquet clamped tightly around his thigh. He let out a pained breath as her fingers probed the gash in his jeans, searching by touch for an indication of just how bad it was.

"Sorry," she offered in a low mutter.

He didn't acknowledge her, focusing on the street beyond their hiding spot. The wound was still bleeding, he could feel the heat trailing down his leg, making the denim stick uncomfortably to his skin. Beth was probably already at the gates by now, if nothing had held her up. There was a helluva lot more noise coming from that direction. Most of the shots sounded to be concentrated up that way; all but one or two bangs were coming from anywhere else. His mouth tightened into a thin line. He didn't much want to think about what that might mean.

Goddammit if it hadn't all gone to hell in a hand basket.

Carol finished what she was doing and stood up, resuming her position at his side and he draped his arm across her shoulders again. She had her head cocked to one side and even in the dark, he could tell that her eyes had narrowed, kinda squinting out towards the road. She was tense, the muscles under his arm drawn tight like a bowstring. The growls from the other side were growing louder, barely interrupted by the pop and crack of gunfire now. From this angle, he couldn't see much, but from the noises that reached them, the herd was already flowing down the south wall, and possibly even from the back half of the west.

"We don't get movin' now, we ain't gonna at all. They'll cut us off."

It took a full minute after she nodded before she relaxed and they started again. Trudging through the thick layer of snow added difficulty, slowing them down considerably. They had to pick their way through the powder with care, watching over their shoulders for the walkers that had split the main herd in two to tramp down the eastern wall. The houses were dark on either side of the road, abandoned in favor of an active defense outside or their occupants hidden. The streetlights were still working, so they had power, for all the good it did them right then. They avoided them as best they could, keeping close to the neighborhood's porches.

Denise and Tara's place was near the middle of the row on the north side, not far from the gates. What had once been convenient was now a vulnerability in his mind, especially if the wall had given on that end too. It put them in the heart of the herd and it was only a matter of time before they were well and truly overrun.

Carol stopped again and Daryl jerked his head up from where he'd been watching the ground to see what'd brought her up short.

The front entrance of Alexandria was visible from here, a hole where the gates should have been filled with a mangled truck and shambling corpses. How the fuck hadn't they heard the collision? It was a teeming mass of bodies, their people desperately working to cut down the walkers as others fired from the remaining tower. The truck's engine was in idle, its faint grumble barely reaching them, but even from this distance, he could see the thick spider-web cracks where the windshield had been peppered with bullets. He pulled his arm away to push firmly against her back.

"Get goin!" She hesitated for a fraction of a second as he limped to the side, grabbing the porch railing of the house they were in front of. He snapped at her. "I said go, they need ya!"

As she took off, reaching around for the gun she'd apparently tucked into her belt, Daryl scanned for a flash of blue or blonde but Beth was nowhere in sight. So where the hell was she? His stomach tightened into a knot and he had to swallow past the burn of bile. Until he saw a fucking body, he was going to believe his girl was fine. She'd beaten shittier odds.

Wishing like hell they'd dug out his crossbow or the rifle, he snatched Beth's knife from its sheath and kept going, clenching his jaw as he trudged forward. Carol was already closing in on the gates, weaving through walkers. They dropped in her wake, her movements quick and efficient as she tucked her blade through bone and sagging skin again and again. There were others nearby, a couple of faces he could recognize at a distance, but there just wasn't enough of them. The closer he got, the more clearly he could still hear trucks outside and scanning the remaining tower, there wasn't enough of them on the wall either. They needed to get their people out.

Walkers were spilling past the ragged line of defense, wandering deeper into the streets with hungry, burbling moans, their pale eyes rolling in their heads. By the time he'd made it to the corner of the next house, they were within reach. The first one lurched towards him, its mouth wide and he slammed the knife through its chin. With a gurgle, it dropped into the snow, already being stepped over by another. He could hear at least two more coming from around the back of the house on his right, their snarls echoing hollowly from the narrow alleyway. With his bad leg on that side, he couldn't pivot, so he staggered back, letting the second corpse in front of him follow the movement, leaning towards him.

Keeping the motion tight and short, he caught it in the side of its head, shoving it back and into the body of the first. The dead man's legs immediately went limp, boneless, and the corpse toppled backwards, smashing into the next one that was just rounding the corner, making it stumble and fall. Daryl hurried lamely towards the street, his leg on fire. More were coming, bangs and thuds coming from the yards behind him and he could see black shapes unsteadily stomping across the road. Turning, he broke into a trot, forcing the muscles to work. The numbers weren't as thick around the gates' remnants, the line pulling together to force back the tide of dead still fighting to get in. Dodging the outstretched arms of a female, he slid the knife into the soft flesh of her eye, the decaying ball popping like a rotten grape, gunk oozing out. He yanked the weapon back out with a snarl and kept moving, hoping like hell his leg didn't give out on him before or after he got there.

Rick was coming down the ladder, a look of relief on his face as they spotted one another. Daryl grabbed him around the bicep, hanging on to steady himself as he looked dead at his brother.

"What's the situation back there?"

Daryl shook his head. "East and south walls comin' down. Beth called it, they've got us surrounded." He looked around, anxiety gnawing at his gut. "She get here?"

The sheriff nodded, but his expression quickly became troubled. "She went back for you." Cold swept through him unlike anything he'd felt since the hospital. Rick wrapped his hand around his forearm. "We need t'get you t'Denise's place. Tha' leg-"

"Fuck the leg," he spat, throwing Rick's grip and turning, but the other man caught him on the shoulder.

"Unless you can get back there in the next five minutes, you ain't doin' shit for her, Daryl!"

Daryl threw him off again with a rough shrug and a hard swipe of his hand, but before he could open his mouth to argue, an engine roared from the other side of the wall. The sound echoed, tripled and he watched the color drain from Rick's features as tires screeched and crunched. In the time it took for them to recognize what it meant, the crash had already happened, another massive vehicle punching into the back end of the one still resting on top of the gate with enough force to send it careening forward. Snow and walkers were suddenly jammed up in front of the initial truck's hood and the second kept pushing. A third was hot on its ass, then a fourth and a fifth, rolling in as men and women threw the canvas tarps covering the backs, every single one of them armed. The clicks of their weapons was as loud as their voices, the discharges quick and merciless as they gunned down dead and living alike, carving a path that painted the road black and red.

There wasn't time to react. The ones that were still standing had barrels thrust into their faces and their arms wrenched behind their backs, held fast with zip ties that cut into the skin. Tossed onto the ground, they were forced onto their knees and with disturbing clarity, Daryl caught on fucking fast what they'd been waiting on. The walkers had done most of the work for them and with the amount of firepower and people that were now swarming out of the trucks, they'd easily dispatch what they couldn't turn aside.

And if he was thinking that, then it'd already occurred to Rick and everyone else. There was no safe place to fall back to, no where to regroup, no fucking _plan_. Alexandria was a loss.


	91. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter! Hot damn, I'm on a roll (knock on wood), lol.

Her hands were stiff, chilled by cold and blood as she ducked the walker's drunken swipe. Her ribs ached from the cold air that burned her lungs and left her lips raw. She made a low sound in her throat as she straightened up under its swing and sank her knife damn near up to the hilt between its eyes. Dark matter splattered across her face, catching on her lips as soundlessly, the corpse crumpled across the ground. Beth stood over it, breathing hard and covered in gore and snow. Reflexively, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and crouched down, her eyes flicking up as she worked the blade free.

Bodies littered the white landscape, the dead and dying strewn together in a scene that was nothing short of a battlefield. Her kills were among them, a count that she didn't give two shits about. She'd dove into the herd and their line had broken against her like a stone crashing into the tide. Her movements had been as wild as theirs, lurching through the snow and against every corpse within reach. Not every stab had found its mark and she knew that she was lucky that her clothing was as thick as it is. Daryl would just say that she was fucking lucky, period, but as that thought crossed her mind and her chest tightened painfully, she wasn't sure she would have agreed.

Most of the southern wall had completely collapsed, and it wouldn't belong before the east and west ones were gone too at the rate the walkers were going. Twisting slightly, she looked over her shoulder. The remnants of people that'd been on the lookouts were grouping up as best they could, forming knots that faced outwards. They were just holding their own. The walkers were too damn numerous for them to do much more than that. Beth turned back around as another one staggered in front of her. She stood, slamming her knife into its temple as she sidestepped. It went down like the first and after leaning down to clean the blade, she started moving again.

From the corner of the east and south walls, she headed north, aiming for the front gates. Drag marks had been clearly visible in the snow near the tower she and Daryl had climbed, even after the churned up mess of slush the walkers had left in their wake. Someone had been pulled out from under wreckage, but there was no way to tell who it had been. There were too many tracks to get a clear idea of what direction they'd gone, but she reckoned that it would either be to the clinic or to find Rick.

The herd thinned towards the second house, the walkers milling aimlessly in the yard. Sheathing her knife, Beth vaulted up onto the empty back porch, slipping over the boards with quick, light steps. The house's interior was dark, but with the glow of the streetlight from the other side the structure seemed to be a collection of shadows rather than true pitch. Passing in front of the windows, she was only a shade or two darker than that glassy background. She slipped over the railing on the other end and darted to the next house, keeping one eye on the walkers. They didn't appear to notice her, their attention focused on the flashes of light and sound that were still coming from the gates.

After crossing the back steps of the second porch, she stopped, her eyes falling to a set of footprints that were clear in between herself and the house a little further down. Easing down into the snow, she tucked herself close to the white-covered shrubs, balancing her weight between her feet and the fingertips she rested in the powder. The dead marched on not far from her position, slogging paths those behind them could follow. The tracks were odd, more like long, slinking ruts where someone shuffled their feet rather than picked them up. They were deep, the outer one narrow and the inner one wide. One person supporting another? Beth glanced up and leaned forward, peering around the corner of the house. The space was empty.

Scrutinizing the walkers pass for a couple of beats, she slipped between the houses and stood up, carefully pacing the trail. She paused close to where it opened up between the front yards and bent down again, touching a fingertip to several discolored droplet punctures in the snow. Someone had been hurt, maybe Daryl or Carol, maybe not, but it was the best lead she had. She looked out towards the street. The dead were trickling in from between the houses, forming together in large clumps as they continued to trek northward. Beth studied them for a long moment, internally weighing her odds. The main bulk of the horde hadn't made it quite this far, but they were rapidly gaining ground. She didn't have much of a choice other than to keep heading in the same direction and it was likely that however many of their people made it out alive, the walkers were going to be pushing them that way too.

As her eyes drifted to the front of the pack, to the ones that stumbled eagerly forwards, there was a series of forceful snaps, ear-piercing in the confined area she had knelt in. She flinched, her hands instinctively moving to the sides of her face as she saw the first cluster of walkers slump to the ground. Immediately, a second wave of shots cut down the ones just behind them and Beth recoiled into the lightless alleyway, pressing her back against the side of the house. With her knees scrunched up to her chest, she made herself as small as possible, watching and listening as more of the dead dropped where they'd been standing. It was an instinctive action, the shouts that were now coming from the direction of the gates unrecognizable. Unable to pick out one familiar voice, she shrank back into the shadows and waited, her heart thumping hard.

People came into her line of sight, flanking the street in one broad line, their guns trained forward. They called to one another, those on each end sweeping the barrels of their rifles towards the houses, scanning. She didn't know their faces and when they passed, she felt a chill creep up her back that had nothing to do with the snow that was bleeding through her jeans. Not all of them, but several had a 'W' painted across their foreheads in bright tints. When they came abreast of her hiding spot, she pushed herself even further back, her view becoming obscured by the edge of shrubbery that covered the corner of the house. She drew in slow, deliberate breaths, watching them pass. The man closest to her was a little more than twenty yards away and his eyes skittered past her, clearly only concerned with what moved rather than what might actually be lurking.

Beth waited, the pulse in her neck a thrum she could feel pressing against the thin barrier of her skin. Haltingly, she bent forward, counting the beats as they strode on up the street. A spurt of gunfire came from behind her, and another from behind the houses across the road. Ducking her head, she slunk behind the bushes that lined the house on the right and dropped to her belly. Her elbows sank into the black mulch protected by the shrubs' tightly woven branches as she crawled forward. The noise became muted, muffled by the layer of snow and leaves. She could see the steps leading up to the front door, well lit from the street. When her arm bumped against one of the posts, she stopped, listening to the sounds of fighting coming from all directions, most of them faint from her position. Nothing seemed to be drawing closer and she risked taking a peek from where she was concealed.

The street was empty save for what no longer had the capacity to move. Still, she waited, her eyes darting up and down the road. The earth under her reverberated with her heartbeat, echoing it back to her with a twin tattoo that she could almost hear. Licking her cracked lips, she pulled herself up into a low crouch, easing a hand out to curl her fingers around the edge of one of the steps. Then she bolted, pushing out from the shrubbery and sprinting around to the other side of the house. She kept close to it, staying out of the light from the lampposts as best she could. Voices began to drift in the air the closer she came to the gates, loud, almost boisterous, crowing wordlessly.

By the time she drew level with Denise's house, she could see the trucks that had parked within the wide entryway at the front of the zone. Beth slunk behind the corner of the small building, bending at the waist to peer cautiously around the edge of the porch. More people were on the backs of them, waving their guns in the air and hollering, their mouths split wide in grins as others aimed their rifles at the backs of a line of kneeling prisoners. Her narrowed gaze drifted over them, individuals with faces that she did recognize. Everyone had their hands linked behind their heads and a growl built in her chest, burbling up to catch behind her teeth, which she kept locked tight.

Her hand drifted back to the hilt that stuck out of her belt as her eyes landed on Daryl. He looked pale, his features set in a stony grimace that made her feel both relieved and uneasy. Anger was a hot accompaniment, nearly enough to choke her as her eyes dropped to the thick, stained bolt of material was wrapped around his thigh. It took effort to tear herself away from staring at him, worrying at the flesh on the inside of her cheek with her teeth. Again, she counted, tracking the amount of men and women who were drifting around the small area like circling vultures. Their lips were shaping into hungry smiles, starving glances stealing towards the streets that branched out from the gates. She knew those looks, how the neatly kept homes morphed in their eyes, into bones waiting to be picked clean. She'd seen it on the faces of her family often enough; waiting, pacing, tugging at an invisible leash that snapped them back into place when they sensed they'd drifted too far from the rest of them.

Snow crunched nearby and Beth whirled, the knife half drawn before her eyes adjusted to the dimness behind the house and she could see who it was.

Morgan, as covered in gunk as she was, held up a hand, his lips quirked as if he'd been caught playing a game for children. The glint in his dark eyes caught a slant of light, reflecting like those of an animal as he then walked closer, his footsteps light and muffled now. He'd wanted her to know he was coming. Angling his slender frame around her, he surveyed the scene just beyond the house. She could smell him, metallic and musky, and in the hand that was at his side was a blade that could have put hers to shame, black, serrated and filthy with the remains of things she could guess at. Without a word, he motioned to her with a tick of his head, his finger twitching from his mouth to the window just above them. It was falling into a system of habit that Beth apparently hadn't forgotten, picking up on his meaning with a flash of understanding. He stepped back and she turned, reaching up for the jutting sill.

Morgan braced his legs wide and hooked his fingers together, allowing her to fit her boot neatly into his palms. Boosted, she felt the knot in her stomach loosen by a fraction as the glass easily slid upwards. Deftly, she wrapped her hand around the cord that controlled the blinds, tugging on it to raise them as Morgan reacted to the shift of her weight and lifted her higher. In seconds, she vanished inside. He was quick to follow and she slid to the side to give him room to maneuver. The house was close enough to the street to be faintly lit and Beth once again had to allow her eyes time to register the shift between light and dark.

Denise was next to Tara, their eyes wide as they stood next to one of the front windows, frozen in place. Other figures were close by, huddled together in a tense quiet near the far end of what appeared to have been serving as a makeshift operating room. A sheet was draped across the island that was otherwise a kitchen bar, surgical tools and torn packets of antiseptic wipes littering the space. Beth took a step further inside as Morgan shut the window with a soft click.

Her low voice carried through the silence. "How many have you got?"


	92. Chapter 92

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, new chapter for you lovely people! I'd meant to get it up earlier this past weekend, but some family stuff had come up. Thank you guys so much for being so encouraging and positive! Writing this story has been a wonderful experience and you guys have played the biggest part of why that is. ^_^

It was a fight to keep from shivering. His jeans were soaked through from the knees down and the damp was creeping upwards, leaking into the denim and making the gash in his thigh throb. The snow pooled around him, a slush-filled puddle spanning the short distance between him and the two people on either side.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched groups break away from the trucks and spread out through the streets. Their guns rattled from every side and from the south there were faint shucking sounds before red flares became visible over the roofs. What they couldn't lead away, they were killing. He'd called that right too. His gaze slid to the people that were milling around the trucks in front of their line. Some of them were dressed in dirty fatigues, their demeanor more like soldiers or mercenaries. They were the ones from the mountains, carrying themselves completely differently than the others that were dancing around, whooping and hollering. The ones that couldn't seem to contain themselves were wild things, their appearance ragged, barely stitched together with wild eyes and wide grins. The recognizable letter traced across their foreheads with blood or paint marked them less plainly as a separate unit.

Very few of them were selected to move further into Alexandria by the other group, who were clearly running the show. It made him think the others were likely just bulk, bodies to flesh out their numbers and, if he had to guess, probably were meant to be fodder to the walkers or anyone still left out there that got lucky. They were chaotic, unorganized, more focused on the spoils they saw than the security that was needed to keep them. Greedy and hungry and drunk on both. Their lack of discipline was stark against the other group, the majority of whom were currently serving as guards for the row of kneeling prisoners. Their faces, unlike those of their counterparts, were stoic, focused and wary. Some of them wore thin-lipped expressions, emotions held with tight control as they wove through the others, the hands on their guns gripping hard. Dissent in the ranks and they'd hardly gotten into the gates.

Daryl glanced around again. Someone was holding this shit together.

The trucks started moving, two guys yanking the dead one out of the first one's cab and rolling the body into the snow. The vehicle shuddered to life with a strained grumble. The tires crunched and it slowly rolled forward, jockeying into a position behind another that rolled past it. More could be heard outside the walls. They marched in like a line of ants, white-stained mud slinging off the treads as they lumbered through the gap.

Something nudged against his elbow and Daryl angled his head slightly down, cocking it and catching Rick's eye. The sheriff could barely do more than meet his look before he was rocked forward, the butt of a rifle making sharp contact with the back of his skull.

"No talkin'," a male snapped from behind them, but there was nothing behind the order. It quavered - fearful, antsy, familiar.

Rick's hands sank into the icy powder as he caught his weight on them, swaying on all fours. Michonne reached for him, her fingers unlacing from over her dreads only to curl into fists as the same rifle connected with her upper back. He was in motion even as it registered in his brain that it was a stupid move, but _fuck it all to hell_.

Twisting with a snarl, he snapped his hand around a forearm, yanking the man down so fast he was a blur of scruffy features and green eyes. Then there was just a satisfying crack of bone against his knuckles. The gun in his hands was immediately dropped in favor of covering his nose as blood spurted from his nostrils.

"Nick, you piece of _shit_ ," Daryl growled as he pushed up, grabbing a handful of shirt and yanking the little asshole down.

Nick's hands, slick and hot, wrapped around his wrists instinctively as Daryl used his loss of balance to push him onto his back. He ignored the stab of pain, his grip around the other man's neck and immediately closing hard. Nick choked with a helpless gargling sound, the blood flowing down his throat and probably into his windpipe. Or it would have if Daryl wasn't doing everything in his power to close it off. He let go with one hand to cock it back and when he smashed into the prick's mouth and felt another crunch of bone give, it pulled a rumbling sound of satisfaction from him. A blur of black appeared out of nowhere next to him and suddenly Michonne was at his elbow, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of a hunting knife and her teeth bared as she brought the tip of it down.

It didn't connect, but he didn't really expect it to.

The blow landed pretty well where he figured it was going to. Too many people around for one of them not to react. His vision blacked out around the edges, pain exploding across the back of his neck and his teeth sank into his tongue. Reflexively, he let Nick go, blood filling his mouth as he was knocked sideways. Cold seeped into his gloves where he caught himself, making his fingers hurt. He spat, and when he could blink away the swimming sea of white in front of his face, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a grinding noise, flakes being crushed under boots, then scuffling.

Another man spoke. "Knock it off." The words were quiet, but there was a demand to them, steel swaddled in cotton.

Daryl rubbed a wet glove across the nape of his neck and pushed himself back up to his knees. Pulling in air through his mouth, the smear of red between his knees sharpened to droplets, his blurred vision fully clearing. His head hurt like a bitch and he kept his touch ginger. No one stopped him from moving, so he turned slightly to get a glimpse of the second guard that had come up behind him.

A barrel balancing behind his ear made him freeze. "Don't push yer luck, man." Same voice, still soft; less of a demand, more like a warning and Daryl lowered his hands to chest level, fingers spread and palms up in an acquiescing gesture.

The gun disappeared and he let his hands drop to rest on his thighs. In his peripheral, Rick had straightened up, a line of slinking, shiny darkness trickling towards his collar. The trucks were still coming in, obscuring the other side of the road, only revealing what was there in flashes. Daryl fixed his gaze on that, his jaw clenched. His hands curled and uncurled against his jeans, flexing as he shifted to take some of the pressure off his bad leg. He was forcefully prodded in the center of his back by what he reckoned was the same gun and he used his hands to stagger to his feet and back to the line they'd arranged them in. Michonne had been forced back into place as well, one of her eyes already starting to swell shut.

"Why didn't you check them for weapons?" that voice asked.

"No one's supposed to have weapons inside," Nick answered hoarsely.

The disgust in the other man's tone was clear. "Even when shit's coming at the walls, asshat?" There was a pause, then a snort. "Get cleaned up."

He could hear a click and then a smack of something metal meeting flesh, what he figured to be Nick handing over his gun before footsteps stomped through crunching powder. Another click, a round being chambered and Daryl's muscles locked up, listening hard. The shot was explosive, making his ears ring. There was a thud that he felt more than heard. It came from behind him, though, and he forced his body to relax. It wasn't one of his people.

That tone was still present when the man spoke again. "Fuckin' useless."

He must have made some sort of signal, two guys looking behind them immediately jogging over with their guns hung over their shoulders. They each had a sooty 'W' streaked over their brows, which were cocked down as they smirked at one another. One snickered as they passed, his eyes lingering on a smaller woman at the end of the line that had lost all the color in her features. He reached out as they went by and ran a hand along her shoulder, making her flinch and Daryl could see the way her body spasmed, like she was doing everything she could to hold herself in place. When they came back, it was with Nick between them carried between them with his head lolling back, eyes wide as one held him by the arms and the other toting his legs.

Daryl watched as they trotted between the slowing trucks, but his attention was pulled as a man moved between him and Harley, who was kneeling next to him with his beard coated so thickly in flakes and gore that it would have been hard to guess at its original color. The expression on the old man's face was a mirror of his own, his hands still braced behind his head, cradling the thick rope of hair that hung down to the center of his back. The glasses that were usually perched on the bridge of his long ago broken nose were gone, but that didn't take away the sharpness in his dark blue irises. They glittered in the yellow light, hawkish as they followed the man that had stepped in front of them.

He was tall and rail thin, with hair that was like Carol's, curly and flecked with varying shades of gray. The way he was standing, it was hard to see much of his features, but what could be seen were angular, closer to gaunt. Turning on his heel, he walked away from them, heading up the line at a clip that gave him away as a former military man. Daryl remembered that walk. It'd taken Merle months to stop moving like that, but he'd fall back into it at times - measured, rhythmic. In minutes, he was at the opening that led out past the walls and without waiting for the last of the trucks to pull in, he sidled out of them and disappeared around the corner.

They hadn't been left alone, quick pacing offsetting the roar of the last truck as it drove past. The other side of the street was finally clear, revealing Denise's house, dark and empty-looking. He hoped like hell they'd made it out. Another lanky figure was visible at the bottom of the steps leading to the porch, talking with several other people. Their face was visible in the dim light and Daryl almost reached out to grab Harley's meaty shoulder to anchor himself in place.

He looked right and Rick caught his eye again, his lips slightly parted as they watched Pete shuffle his feet, glancing towards them then away multiple times. Licking his lips, his skin had a sheen to it that looked clammy, even from this distance. A flask appeared in his hand and he took a long pull from it as one of the others said something to him. With a nod, he put it back in his coat pocket and gestured, leading them up along the row of houses. Rick looked like he was going to be sick and Daryl couldn't say that he blamed him. The worst possible scenario had played out and they been caught with their fucking pants down.

Thing was, he thought with a downward twist of his lips he didn't bother hiding, someone had done a damn good job of making sure that was what'd happened and he reckoned they'd 'bout figured who those people were. Didn't do them a whole lot of fucking good right then. More like shoving a hand full of salt into a wound that was already scraped raw because they'd _known_ that they'd needed to do something about Pete.

Abruptly, he was shoved in the back again. Looking up, a woman with dirty blonde hair and a mouth that was lifted crookedly used the muzzle of her rifle to point to the right.

"Get up."

Harley offered him a massive hand and Daryl took it to get up with a scowl. He turned and the older man took his arm to support him as he limped forward, tasting blood again as he viciously bit into the flesh of his cheek. Goddamned screwed and there wasn't a damn thing they could do right then. It was a waiting game now and the sheer fuckery of it was that none of them had an any idea what they were going to end up waiting for.


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for the response to the last chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this one too! :)

With the trucks halted, the quiet that followed was pervasive. Beth watched out of the window, her fingers resting against the blinds as she stared out of the glass. There'd been movement on the other side of the road for a while, but with the vehicles constantly passing by, she hadn't been able to see who or what was responsible for it. She'd slipped back by the time the last one rumbled through, creeping through the kitchen towards the back door, where the others had gathered.

Glenn had his arm around Sasha's waist, letting her use his body like a crutch as Maggie hovered on the other side of them. He appeared mottled, even in the dimness, his skin a kaleidoscope of yellows, browns, and purples. He also kept his upper body slightly bent forward, protecting vulnerable cracked ribs. His wife was watching both him and Sasha in equal turns, her large green eyes dark and worried. Denise was gripping Tara's hand tight in the semi-dark as her gaze flitted up and down her patients, searching their body language for nuances of pain or discomfort. A satchel was across her back, full of the supplies they couldn't afford to leave behind. Her free hand was playing with the belt around her waist, close to the machete that was strapped along the line of her thigh.

Voices drifted in the air from outside; close by, judging from their volume. Beth glanced over her shoulder towards the front door, listening intently, but she couldn't make out what was being said. A soft creak on the staircase had her turning her head in time to see Morgan slinking down the steep, carpeted steps. His movements were hushed as he crossed the short distance to the same window she'd just left, peering out with careful fingers balanced on the curtain. The light from outside cast that odd glimmer across his irises again, reflecting like a cat's eyes before being extinguished completely as he eased away.

He held his hand up, fingers slightly spread as he slunk towards them noiselessly.

Beth cocked her head towards the back door. "Can you help me get us outside the wall?"

She knew the answer, but it was more a question of agreement than of his capability to get them out of the zone. Morgan rolled his shoulders in a careless shrug, his lips quirking into a small smile that was half-mad, seemingly pleased by the question and yet not even appearing to completely register it. His gaze was unfocused and fixed on nothing, roving across things that she couldn't see. When they dropped back to hers, they were clearer but still gleaming with that feverishness that she knew all too well. Just looking at him tugged at something almost unpleasant in her gut, pulled her into a mode of operating that now felt foreign. It didn't fit right, uncomfortable, but she let herself sink into it, falling back into what had been her normal for months.

Her head felt like it was full of static, buzzing with things that she could only catch in the periphery. In her mind, she shook them away and moved to the back door. It opened with a soft squeak of its hinges. Without a word, Morgan slipped out to the back porch first, turning left. Beth watched him quickly cross the distance towards the far end, his hand curling around the railing. He stood motionless for several long minutes, staring past the corner of the house towards the street and the gates. Then he was jumping down over the side and gesturing to her with hurried motions.

She relayed the signal to the group still in the house with her, her hair sweeping across her neck as she turned. Glenn supported Sasha, the two of them limping outside with Maggie on their heels, her small caliber pistol in hand. Tara led Denise as well, the blonde medic wearing an expression that bordered on panic. Beth hoped like hell that it wasn't, because there was not going to be anyway they could help her if she bolted or screamed. She didn't think that was going to be the case, but she'd never seen the woman hold any kind of weapon other than a scalpel and a pair of scissors. Hopefully Tara or somebody had been teaching her how to use that thing at her hip.

The last one out, Beth shut the door and bolted down the back steps, her knife drawn and held down at her side. The wall, or a large part of it, still stood at the back of the house. They'd need to trek further down to slip out and into the trees just beyond. Plans could come after that and although she was loathe to admit it, she knew that until they were in a relatively safer location, there was nothing they could do for the others. What she couldn't shake, though, was the thought that time was only an illusion - an ill-fitted mirror shifting with smoke; a promise that couldn't be kept.

As she brought up the rear of the small group, she kept an eye on the road. There were two trucks parked close to the gates, one behind the other and from the back of the last one, she saw someone moving around. Her stride slowed and her breath caught in her throat as the other side of the vehicle came into view, revealing people being marched out of the opening torn into the wall and out onto the highway leading away from Alexandria. There was a low rumbling from what she guessed to be another truck idling just beyond the gates. Were they being loaded up into it?

And for the first time in a long while, that old question of why came to her. And for the first time that she could vividly recall, she found it to be important.

God, she wanted to run towards that sound. Her feet had already propelled her nearly ten yards in that direction before she realized it. Well within the shadow of the house, Beth was watchful of the street. This close, the far side of the truck was once again obscured. It took something out of her to turn her back on it and trot back the way she'd come, something cracking in her chest, crumbling and spreading its ash in that hollow space the night had carved out behind her ribs. It ached, heavy despite its emptiness and the growling self-reminder that there was nothing she could do right that second only added to the snow-touched weight. Maggie and the others were no longer visible, but their tracks were easy enough to follow, curving over from the rows of houses towards what was left of the wall.

She stepped in their steps, picking her way until the trail ended at the far western corner of the zone, where the tower had fallen. The tracks bent around a flat sheet of tin, heading into the woods and Beth increased her pace without a backwards glance. She caught up with them just inside the first line of pines. The lights from the zone barely reached the trees, and beneath them it was nonexistent. Sasha was resting with her back against a brittle trunk with Glenn leaning next to her, his breathing harsh. The others were standing close by, except for Morgan. He was nowhere in sight. Her head cocked towards her sister and Maggie extended a slender finger to the south.

"We heard something movin'," she murmured.

Almost as soon as she said it, there was a rustling. They all turned in its direction, as rapid, sharp crunching echoed out of the dark.

It was with surprise and relief that Beth recognized the figures that emerged. The smaller of the two ran to her, their arms wrapping around her tightly and squeezing, and her first instinct wasn't what she'd expected. Blowing out a shaky breath, she buried her nose in clothes that smelled warm and her body sagged, whatever she'd been using to hold herself upright leaving her for that moment.

"Jesus Christ, sunshine!" Eric's voice was tremulous in her ear, one of his hands coming up to stroke the back of her head before pulling back, his hands on her shoulders. He was shaking his head, his mouth parted like he wanted to say something else, but he couldn't find anymore of his voice.

Aaron's larger palm came down on the crown of her hair as he looked down at her, his expression a mixture of things she couldn't bring herself to identify. If she did, she was liable to collapse completely and Eric wouldn't be able to hold her up. Her fingers wound themselves into the fabric of Aaron's jacket sleeve and held on, her other hand still resting on his boyfriend's waist. She couldn't describe what was tumbling through her head, couldn't express what she was feeling, so she just let her forehead drop to bump against Aaron's broad chest and rest there, salty wetness flowing over her lips to drip into the snow and dead needles under their feet. That hole under her sternum thrummed with life once...twice.

"Ok," she muttered. "Ok."

It was the only thing she could say and Aaron's hand moved down to her back and rested there, just under Eric's, a gentle presence, a reminder.

She hadn't lost them all.

Pulling in a mouthful of cold air, Beth lifted her head and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. As she did, there were more footsteps, a shuffling like someone was shifting from one foot to the other. Aaron stepped to the side and her relief was compounded when she met Carl's liquid blue irises. In his arms he was holding his baby sister, Judith's tiny fingers clutching his shirt. Seeing the toddler tore something inside of Beth. She wanted to reach out and hold the child about as badly as she wanted to look away entirely. It made her gut churn. Carl's gaze flickered across the people in front of them, lighting up briefly and she could very nearly see the thoughts as they flashed across his features, which were shaded by the brim of his hat. Then she watched the conclusions form and the relieved elation dim as he took stock of the people that weren't with them.

"My dad?" he asked quietly, lightly bouncing Judith as he walked into the center of the group.

"Taken," Beth said, hoarse and rough before clearing her throat. "A lot of us were taken."

"Alive though?" he pressed and she nodded, folding her arms across her chest.

"I saw some people gettin' put in a truck."

"We know where they're goin'," Glenn rasped.

Many of them turned to look at him and Morgan's deep, scratchy tone cut through the sudden quiet. "Quarry." Beth angled towards him and he met her glance, his hands folded in front of him like a man in church. "You get t'pick."

He said it and it felt as though the words were meant to bath her in metal, coat her in armor that could mask the fractures. The pieces that had welded themselves together were straining at their seams and the unhinged gaze he settled on her didn't help. If anything, she felt that she was withdrawing further into that sense of wrongness she hadn't entirely left behind. Did she need it? She didn't know. Could she rely on it, on the person that had been born from it? She didn't know that either, and the risks were going to be difficult enough. Because there was about a snowball's chance in hell that she didn't know where she was going.

_I'm not going to leave you!_

Her fingers tightened where they fisted in the sleeves of her jacket. A wayward glance at Carl and Judith standing nearby hooked into the fragile balance she had on her thoughts, threatening to send them into a tailspin. The easiness with which she could fall back into that mindless pattern, the give and pull of instinct and fear, was terrifying. She could taste it, a bitter burn at the back of her throat. Bending her neck to look at the tips of her boots, she snarled soundlessly, struggling with herself.

It was a fight to make her muscles unclench, make her body relax. It took monumental effort, but she pulled it all together and the tracks on her face dried. It felt like minutes, but it was probably only seconds between the bowing of her head and the raising of it. She didn't have an answer, but there wasn't any point in dwelling on it, not when she stood there in doubt was putting everyone else at risk. Selfish and stupid and unnecessary. Sheep behavior. She was Beth. She needed to keep being reminded of that and that was alright, as long as she remembered in the end.

It was like sewing shards of glass into a pouch made of paper, but she got a handle on the emotions that'd caught up with her. She could think, she could focus and she could do it clearly. Breathing in again, Beth met her sister's eyes and Maggie nodded, the brunette's lilt firm and determined.

"Aright, how are we gonna get our people home?"


	94. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this is dragging out for you guys. Thank you so much for sticking with me and the story, though, and for your patience! I'm cracking these chapters out as quickly as I can and everything is going to be resolved very soon, I promise!

It'd maybe been half an hour since they'd been herded up into the truck. If he'd had to guess at where they were being taken, Daryl would have bet on the quarry. It was the closest base of operations these people had, that he knew of anyway. On the winding Virginia roads, it'd be another half an hour before they got there. The woods offered a straighter shot, but these vehicles weren't built for that kind of terrain. The trees grew too close together and were too thickly built to bulldoze over without a shit ton of effort and damage. A longer route, but easier on the trucks; they'd last longer at any rate.

The ride was bad, bouncing them every which way and it was a struggle to keep still long enough for his leg to lay straight like it needed to. Carol had looked at it as best she could, unwrapping the blood-stiffened sweater and replacing it with an undershirt that someone had lent her. They'd been given a certain amount of free rein in the back, with two armed women positioned at the opening at the end of the bed. Daryl watched them openly as Carol fucked around with his injury, poking and prodding in ways that made his jaw clench even tighter than it already was. They didn't move much, rolling with the jostling in a manner that spoke of practice, their feet braced wide apart and their backs bumping against the metal ribs that gave the roof shape.

Their rifles were held easily in both hands, relaxed, but alert. One had a braid of long, frizzled hair, the color long faded into a white that nearly matched the snow outside. Her features were smooth, though, except for the lines around her light eyes, making her age difficult to judge. The other woman was stockier than the first, but definitely younger, with close-cropped blonde hair that looked like it'd been chopped off with a knife, jagged and uneven, and brown eyes that stared at the group intensely. She seemed like she was doing everything she could not to explode into sudden, violent motion. Where the older woman was nearly serene in her stance, this one was energy held in check. What they had in common, however, was the letter that had been swept across their foreheads.

As far as he knew, theirs was the only truck that had been loaded up. He hadn't seen any come up behind them and he knew that none had left before. They hadn't waited long before pulling out, so it was likely that they were the only group of prisoners that were going to be taken. That could mean a couple of things, but he figured they didn't expect to find anyone else alive.

"Ain't got nothin' t'clean it with," Carol murmured, her voice bringing his attention down to her. She was sitting beside him, her legs bent under her as she ripped the thin shirt into strips. "But the bleedin's stopped."

Daryl grunted, shifting his eyes towards the sheriff sitting across from him on the makeshift benches that sat against the tarp sides. Rick's gaze hadn't moved from the women on the other end, although it seemed like he was more focused on the dark strip of black that wound behind them. He thought he could pretty well put his finger on what his brother was thinking about. Michonne had her hand balanced on Rick's forearm, her thumb rubbing back and forth in a way that made Daryl wonder if that touch was all that was keeping him anchored in his seat.

Harley was beside him on the left, a solid wall of bulk that was a helluva lot more sturdy than the tarp at their backs. Their shoulders bumped with each pitch and more than once the older man had used his bulk to act as a buttress for the people on either side of him when they hit a particularly nasty pothole. He nodded to Daryl from across the way, his mouth set firmly and his enormous arms folded over his barrel chest. Their guards didn't seem to care whether they communicated or not, but for the most part everyone kept their own counsel, their exchanges restricted to glances and silent gestures with few exceptions. There was a lot of fear, but Daryl doubted that they were being driven to an execution. That could have been done pretty fucking simply back at Alexandria.

Nah, they were going to be used for something. There was value in their being alive, even wounded like him. Frankly, he liked that thought even less than getting killed.

Jesus fuck, he hoped Beth and at least a few others had gotten out of the zone. Her absence gnawed at him, but if he had a choice of where she could be, he'd live without her next to him. To consider it left him cold and he'd fucking live with that if it was what it took. His hand curled where it rested over the bent knee of his good leg. She was going to come after them if she was able. She'd do everything in her power to get them out, with whatever means she could scrape together. Didn't matter if she could or couldn't, she was going to damn well try. Any of them would do the same, smart move or not. That didn't matter. He knew, he knew in her mind she would see it as worth dying for. She'd already done it one time.

As the truck rounded a sharp turn, it slowed then ground to a halt with a shudder. The women at the end each lifted a hand to hang on to straps that dangled from the roof, letting the weight of their guns settle on the belts that looped over their shoulders. Their faces were mirrors of one another, equally concerned and baffled as the truck remained in idle for several beats. With a jerk of her head, the younger woman sent the older one hopping out onto the pavement and adjusted her stance so that she was facing the opposite side of the truck, her back to the tarp to keep an eye on both their cargo and the highway.

Reflexively, he glanced at Carol, noting the carefully crafted look of concern that she gave him. Her eyes were cool even as her features morphed into a mildly nervous expression. He got why. She was covering her bases, making sure she was seen as weak, unimportant; a wolf playing at being a sheep among other wolves. Until their circumstances changed, such as they had in the zone when she'd had to drop the charade and take up the defense, it was the part she preferred to play.

And it was a part that worked well. As her wide, liquid blue irises turned towards the guard, the other woman's demeanor shifted in the span of a breath. An ugly hunger gleamed in her gaze, and she leaned forward, the barrel of her rifle lifting a little. Her dark eyes narrowed, then widened as she released a breathy wheeze. Her body shuddered and her grip on the strap over her head visibly loosened. When her hand dropped, so did the rest of her, slowly sinking to the floorboards and feebly plucking at the material of her jacket. There was movement behind her and her head jerked back. Her eyes rolled back and she slumped forwards.

The glow from the brake lights bathed the figure standing at the tailgate mostly in shades of grey and red, but the hair that peeked out from beneath the hood of their coat was white. And when they jerked the hood back and vaulted into the truck bed, that color didn't fade. Daryl felt something thump against his ribs _hard_.

Beth stood just in the mouth of the truck, using the dead woman's shirt to wipe her knife clean before sheathing it. Everyone stayed still, too afraid or too disbelieving to make a move. She held fingers to her lips, her eyes passing over the faces there, and when she spoke, the word was soft.

"Wait."

Shapeless shadows darted past the lights, then were silently pulling themselves inside the truck. As they did, the truck wobbled and snapped forward. Glenn and Maggie were lit up for a brief second, then melted into the dim interior of the truck, dragging the body with them. Rick hoisted himself up, struggling a second to keep his balance as Beth grabbed the strap overhead to maintain her own equilibrium. It was the most life Daryl had seen in him since they'd been rounded up.

As her sister and Glenn came back from the back of the cab, she moved to the center, squatting down in the middle of the aisle, close enough that the side of her thigh brushed up against his knee. It was almost a shock to his system, a tactile reassurance that she was really there. His fingers itched to bury in her hair, itched for further confirmation and Daryl clenched his hand into the meat of his uninjured leg, digging the fingers into the denim to resist the need. When their gazes met, it made the thumping in his chest steady its rhythm. He could feel the weight of her eyes like an actual touch and for the moment, he made it enough. He inhaled and it felt like it was the first time since she'd disappeared off the edge of the tower.

"Morgan led us out," she said before anyone could ask, fixing her gaze on Rick. "Carl and Judith are safe. They're with Denise and Sasha."

"How many others?" the sheriff asked, his voice thick.

"Not enough," she admitted, sounding pained. "Tara, Eric, and Aaron are the last ones I know for sure and they're here with us. More might have gotten out, but we haven't seen them."

Less than half of the people in the zone. It made his gut twist nauseatingly. His slid his leg more snugly against hers and he felt her answer in the lean of her body against him for a split second before she shifted away again. The sickness in his stomach didn't ease up, but it felt good to have that tiny moment of mutual understanding.

Carol leaned forward enough to wrap her arms around her knees. "Where are we going?"

Glenn gestured with a bandaged hand, pointing towards the truck's cab. "Where they planned to take you guys."

"Ambush?" Michonne asked. "We don't have the guns for tha'."

"We're gonna make a pit stop," Maggie answered with her gentle lilt drawling out. "Morgan's got a honey hole close to the place."

"We can trust him?" Abraham wanted to know, his arms bracing on his thighs.

"Yeah," Rick said, reaching out to clasp Beth on her upper arm, his lips tilting into something that looked more like a snarl than anything else. "Yeah, we can trust him."


	95. Chapter 95

Without so much as a glance at her, Carol had scooted over and tugged Beth down to wedge between herself and Daryl. Pressed together from shoulder to thigh, it was cramped, but with the wind whipping through the gaps in the tarp, she was grateful for that proximity. Her gaze fell on the strips of white tied around Daryl's leg and she ran the back of her hand against his knuckles to draw his attention. It might not have been necessary because when she looked up, he was already looking down at her. The way his eyes held hers made it was hard to speak at first, a lump forming in her throat at the magnitude of emotion that was being held in check there. There was a ferocity in how he was watching her and that she could read it so plainly spoke volumes, in her mind at least.

It took several minutes before she could swallow and actually speak, and when she could, it was to softly ask, "You got caught on somethin' in the back tower?"

He nodded, still locked on to her features as his hand twitched where it was still pressed against the back of hers. "Yeah." Finally, he glanced away, towards the back of the truck. "How'd you catch up with us?"

She tipped her head. "Morgan."

Daryl snorted, then winced as they rattled through another pothole, his injured side jostling against her calf. "Crazy bastard musta been doin' more shit in them woods than I thought."

Beth nodded again. "He caught a couple by surprise outside the wall. They were ridin' around in some kinda ATV, firin' them flares." They slowed and lurched to a stop. She stood, offering him a hand to help him up. "Dropped their bodies somewhere for the herd and hid the thing for us to use. Sasha's supposed t'meet us here with it and the rest of our people."

"Hm. How'd you get 'em t'stop the truck?"

She rolled her shoulder in a shrug. "We didn't. We reached the road and saw debris and no tracks. Figured y'all hadn't gotten tha' far yet and jus' waited."

He snorted. "Fuckin' lucky."

"I ain't arguin'."

Slipping under Daryl's arm, she wrapped hers as far as she could around his back as those seated behind them rose and shuffled past in single file. Beth shifted slightly to let them by, waiting until the last person had gone by before she guided him to the tail gate. They had parked on the inside of the sharp curve that preceded the crossroad and aside from the rusting crunch of people passing over dead leaves and snow, it was quiet. The engine's shut-off made that quiet deafening. Carol waited for them outside, one foot planted firmly on the asphalt and the other in the tall weeds along the shoulder of the highway. Aaron came around from the side of the truck, his rifle over his shoulder, and he paused as Carol reached up to help the two of them down. Stepping behind her, he gripped his friend's other arm as Beth ducked out from beneath it and with a steadying touch against Daryl's shoulders, the three of them managed to get him out with a minimum of aggravation to his leg.

She hopped down beside him, but let Aaron support him as she waded through the ditch and then led them into the treeline after the others. When she half-turned to glance over her shoulder, she could see two dark figures in the cab of the truck, one slightly taller than the other, and believed them to be her sister and Glenn. Beyond the zone, it was easier to see in the dark, the lack of light pollution allowing the reflective moonlight to shine through the bare-limbed treetops- bright, luminous. They'd barely passed under the first pine before Daryl eased himself away from Aaron with a grunt, his jaw tight as he made the muscle work the way he needed it to. It was slow, at first, but he eventually gained enough speed that his limp was less pronounced, his knee bending like the other, albeit more stiffly. She and the other two watched him warily as they worked their way over snaking roots and thick brown vines with thorns that tore into their clothing if they weren't mindful.

It was maybe a little less than a quarter of a mile inside the woods before they saw anyone else. Beth recognized Rick's curls and broad shoulders in the weak light, standing beneath a thick oak, quickly waving the last stragglers forward into a closely grown copse of trees. He curled his fingers around the back of Beth's neck and squeezed as they made their way past him, giving her a look that reminded her too much of the way her Daddy had once looked at her, a protective kind of pride that made her stomach twist. She appreciated and hated that look in equal measure, but she gave him a tight smile in return before ducking beneath a low-hanging branch. Holding it as high as she was able, she kept it out of the way of the three behind her.

Daryl brought up the rear, taking the branch from her as Aaron trotted after Carol, who was clearly eager to check on his boyfriend. Releasing the supple wood, Beth rocked back onto her heels and looked up at him, wishing she could see more than just the shadow of his features. He stood over her, one arm braced above his head and his weight braced against the tree's trunk. Then he extended his other hand and clenched it in her hair, hauling her into his chest with a sharp jerk. She didn't resist, her arms automatically wrapping around his waist and dropping her forehead against his collarbone. Daryl breathed against her hair shakily.

"We don't do tha' again," he said roughly, his grip so tight on the long strands that it was painful enough to prick her eyes.

Beth didn't pull away from it, though. If anything, her own grip tightened too. She angled her face so that she could speak without being muffled by the wall of lean muscle and leather. "No, we don't," she agreed.

She could feel the tension seep out of him and his fingers loosened their hold by several degrees. In seconds, he let her go completely and she stepped back with a soft exhale. The feeling that had sunk coldly into the bottom of her gut lifted a little, uncurled and let her finally swallow most of the lump that had been stuck in her throat since they'd boarded the truck. He fell into step just beside her as she turned and led him deeper into the small grove. The fit was close, closer than it had been in the vehicle. People and supplies were crammed into the tiny space which was interspersed with skinny pines and clumps of snow that had dripped through the interwoven needles overhead. Morgan was the easiest to spot, the lamp strapped around his head. Its light bobbed with his movements, bouncing back and forth across a stack of long wooden crates. He was cracking it open with a crowbar as Rick and Michonne stood next to him, and everyone else ringed around the white and brown mound of flakes and foliage in which the boxes had been concealed.

The nails gave, popping out of their moorings. Muttering to himself, Morgan heaved the lid aside carelessly, either not noticing or not concerned with Rick's proximity as the sheriff leaned over the older man's shoulder to peer at the contents. In the lantern's bluish glow, his eyes glittered black, a match for the color of the guns nestled inside.

"Pass 'em out," he told Michonne. Her braids flowed and swayed like they had been caught in a current, rapid and efficient as she broke into motion.

Beth followed Carol closer, taking the crowbar from Morgan wordlessly. As the gleaming rifles were handed out along with a woefully inadequate number of ammunition boxes, the women broke into the remaining crates. Other dim lights were flicked on, bathing the area with gentle illumination that the snow's starkness could only enhance. It was only the boughs above that could absorb it, mute it enough that they weren't all squinting in it.

"We ain't takin' shit with just this," Abraham barked, rattling his single box of bullets. He cocked an eye towards Rick. "Or tha' ain't the idea?"

"We wouldn't be takin' shit with a set of damn tanks," Daryl said, his voice gruff as he checked the sight of the rifle Carol had given him. "Too much territory and too many walkers trapped in the quarry." He gave Rick a hard look. "We might can drive 'em out, but that don't mean they ain't just gonna come back. And we ain't got the people any more t'keep any kind of outpost there."

"But we can't leave 'em in there either," Carol pointed out before turning to Morgan with a shrewd glance. "What were you planning?"

His mouth tilted up oddly, cutting off his lamp with a brush of his index finger. "Ain't planned a damn thing." His finger slid along the strap over his ear to point towards Beth. "She did."

But when all of their eyes fell on her, she held up her hands and shook her head. "All I did was help get us here."

"Ain't tha' enough?" Michonne asked, her quiet question pulling at their attention, much to Beth's relief, as she crossed her arms and settled herself back on one foot. "We can get back to Alexandria as easily as we can pull up to tha' quarry. Why can't we take it back now? Regroup, get our feet back under us."

It was the most probably anyone had heard her say in a long time and Beth wasn't the only one that considered the woman's words. There was a ripple of agreeable murmurs among them. Eric was nodding, tipping his head back to look up at his towering lover with a quizzical expression. Aaron, for his part, seemed to be like several others, silently reserving his thoughts as he took stock of the exchange. Despite the care with which they were speaking, there was an underlying urgency. They didn't have much time to make a decision. It wouldn't be long before someone was sent to look for the truck and why it was late.

Abraham shouldered his gun and stared at Rick. "Your call, man. Ain't no one here tha's gonna argue with ya."

That was true enough. The loss of loved ones and their safe haven had given all of them a taste for payback in one form or another. Even if they accomplished both, taking back Alexandria and getting their hands on the quarry, the walls had been torn down. Neither location afforded them better protection than the other, but to try for both would absolutely stretch their resources to the breaking point. That, at least, no one could contest. Beth knew they'd find little in the zone behind them. What had been there had already been seized. There was a chance that it was en route to the quarry, or possibly being loaded up to be taken there, but that wasn't a sure thing. And what the quarry boiled down to was a giant damned unknown. Even with the little she and Daryl knew and had shared, they were basically walking in blind. In her opinion, it was the best option they had. Their prospects were better, and just the suggestion of taking every ounce of hell that they'd been given by these bastards and slamming it back down their throats appealed to her on a level she couldn't vocalize.

Rick, after a lengthy silence, said brusquely, "We take it to them." He turned to regard Morgan. "But we need yer help."

Morgan's lips split wider and the sound he made was like a hyena's barking laugh, sharp and rolling. Satisfied as she was, Beth was tempted to echo it.


	96. Chapter 96

His leg wouldn't stop throbbing. Beth had given him a small packet of painkillers and he'd swallowed them dry, but either they hadn't kicked in yet or they weren't enough. It didn't matter much in the long run. Daryl was pushing himself as hard as he could to keep up with the others in his small force. Glenn wasn't in any better shape than he was. He could hear the younger man panting hard, even over his own ragged breathing, but both of them were holding their own - for the moment. Beth and Carol were keeping an eye on them, but they hadn't slowed their pace yet. He figured that was as good a sign as he was going to get that they weren't intending to leave the two wounded behind.

He didn't really think they would, but considering it helped keep the pain from fucking him over.

The pre-dawn light cast everything in varying shades of black and grey as they pushed their way through the woods. He reckoned that by now, the truck they'd been riding in had been missed. This deep in the woods, it would be hard to hear anything from the road, but he didn't doubt that at least one or two other vehicles had already been dispatched to search for them. They wouldn't find it easily. Maggie and her husband had hidden the truck as best they could among the large, thick-needled pines before joining the rest of them. The elder Greene hadn't been thrilled with Glenn taking part in the assault, but she hadn't been able to really argue. Rick had asked for volunteers, genuinely reminding them that he wasn't going to push anyone that wasn't willing or able, but there wasn't a damn soul present who hadn't known that they were going to need everyone.

It'd taken one hell of a speech from the sheriff to rally their people into mobilizing. Even though no one had said a word in protest, he'd known that very few of them had their hearts in an assault, not after everything they'd been through just that night alone. Hell, in the last three hours. And if he looked close enough at some of them, there was a disturbing lack of just anything. Nothing, except a bone-deep fatigue that dulled their eyes and deeply lined their faces. People could only do so much, take so much and they'd hurtled past their limits even before the sun had started to come up. And yet, every single one of them had stepped up and wanted to know how they could help. One or two people, Maggie included, people who had even less business being out in the thick of it than he did, had been asked to head for the area Morgan's group had left the kids, and Denise and Sasha.

His lungs were burning as Beth, in the lead, slowed and then stopped altogether. He could see the drop off of the quarry about a hundred yards from their position, easily discernible through the screen of bare branches and uneven piles of snow. Sliding his thumb under the strap of his crossbow, which Maggie had brought to him from where it'd been stored in the truck along with other confiscated weapons, Daryl used his other hand to brace the majority of his weight against a thick gumball trunk as he crouched down with the other three. Clustered together, Beth and Carol stretched out on their bellies, their zipped up jackets protecting them from the snow soaking into the clothes underneath.

Sounds drifted from up ahead of them, floating above the constant low murmur of the walkers that were corralled below. On the opposite slope that was framed by charcoal woods sat the trailer they had seen on their previous trip, its windows tiny and dark. As the sun continued to rise, the view became more sharply defined, rays of weak sun refracting on the glass panes and reflecting in their direction. It was a cold light. From her rucksack, Carol drew out a pair of fat binoculars and hefted them up to her eyes. In a slow, methodical manner, she scanned the other side.

"I see a few people near the bottom end," she said quietly as the binoculars angled downwards, then lowered completely. She pointed with an index finger, the rest curled against her gloved palm. "Couple comin' this way, others goin' the other way."

"They were makin' rotations in pairs before," Beth muttered, craning her neck to look back over her shoulder at Daryl. "If they ain't changin' the routine, they ain't expectin' any trouble yet."

"Reckon they think everythin's still under control," Daryl said with a shrug, struggling to keep his good leg from bouncing impatiently.

The whole thing made him jittery, like ants were crawling over him. It wasn't the worst plan Rick had ever come up with, but it was undoubtedly the easiest to screw up. There were a hundred different things that were going to go fubar. All of them probably were and if any of them were alive at the end of it, then they'd better damn well count every inch of intact skin as a fucking miracle. He eased up a little, just enough that he could see partially down the slope. The trucks that had been used as barriers were still in place, but he could see relatively fresh ruts dug into the snow, muddy gashes that were short but deep. The walkers were mostly still, standing unsteadily, but being buried up to their knees in the heavy powder seemed to anchor them in place. If something caught their attention, though...

"They wouldn't be wrong," Carol replied, bringing his attention back down to where she was sprawled next to Beth, the blandness in her tone belied by the death grip she had on the binoculars as she lowered them. She rose up to her elbows and shifted so that she was half lying on her side and, lifting her arms again, peered through the woods to their left. "No patrols on this side of the upper end as far as I can tell."

"Abraham in position?" Glenn asked.

"Can't tell from here." She handed the binoculars to Beth and shoved a hand in her pocket, rummaging for a second until she produced a small silver cylinder that hung from a thin key chain.

Morgan had given each group one, pulling them from his ratty knapsack with a smile that was goddamned creepy. Daryl had no idea where he'd gotten them or how, and he didn't care. The answer would probably just piss him off anyway. Small but bright, the laser lights were a more subtle means of signaling than flashlights. Pressing down on the second button on its side caused a bright red light to emit from the end she pointed towards the trees. She flashed it in a set sequence and within minutes an answering dot of red could be seen close to the ground, flickering rapidly in an alternating pattern of long and short blinks.

"Patrol," Carol murmured and quickly stuffed the laser light back into her trousers.

As quietly as possible, they withdrew back further into the trees, hunkering down behind the cover of snow, bark, and dim dawn-light. They'd barely managed before two men were striding just beyond the the trees, the one on the outside sending flakes flurrying over the edge of the quarry every time he took a slogging step. They didn't look at the woods or down into the makeshift walker pit. They stared straight at their feet as they walked, with an ongoing, wheezing conversation between the two of them. Waiting until their noise had passed out of hearing as well, Beth was the first to get back up, not bothering to brush off her jeans or jacket.

"About as big a window as we're gonna get," she said, already making large strides through the snow.

Daryl was quick to follow, or as quick as he could be. With the fire in his leg dulled to a simmering burn that only flared when his boot sunk through a particularly deep snowdrift, it was easier than it had been a few minutes ago. Glenn was still struggling and Carol hung back behind them to make sure he didn't fall too far behind. Approaching the edge of the quarry, Beth paused long enough to check that the guardsmen were truly gone. Daryl stared up the opposite way. If the rotations were still the same, they had about fifteen minutes to work before the next patrol came by.

They crept along just inside the trees, their speed deliberate and measured so that they didn't immediately catch up with the men ahead of them. Beth's lips moved every now and then, the fingers of her right hand twitching towards her palm like she was keeping a running count of some kind, probably time. They were following the curving rim of the quarry, heading towards the far end where the line of the wall bent gently to the west. The woods thinned the further they went, disappearing entirely by the time they reached the point where the road leading into the quarry dipped down. Except for the dead, that entire end appeared deceptively deserted.

They weren't going to get a better opportunity. Reaching out to squeeze Beth's shoulder, Daryl half-turned to look at Carol and jerk his head in the direction of what was basically a wide ramp. The two women darted towards it with him and Glenn bringing up the rear, weapons in their hands as they followed at a slower trot. The impact was hard on his leg, hard enough that he could feel the thin layer of scabbing give.

The sight of their movement excited the walkers and their noisy groans rapidly drowned out the crunch of snow under their boots. With Glenn staying at the tail of the trailer, Daryl watched them warily out of the corner of his eye as he scanned the slope overhead for any sign of movement. The four of them ducked behind the trailer of the eighteen-wheeler parked catty-cornered to a rusty yellow haul truck, the top of its tires resting easily against the longer vehicle's grill. With his back against that tire, he swept his eyes along the perimeter as Beth reached up to grab a hold of the chrome handlebars outside the cab. She turned her head side to side, her hair flowing along her collar before she tried the door to the massive machine. It opened with a little bit of effort, the hinges protesting with a squeal as she pulled it open. Carol was doing the same to the other truck, slipping inside silently.

Catching Glenn's eye with a gesture, Daryl shouldered his crossbow and climbed into the haul truck with Beth. It was cramped and she was fumbling under the steering wheel. Lightly bumping her shoulder, he shooed her away and bent down to look at the exposed wires.

He could hear Beth make a frustrated noise in her throat. "I can't find anythin' tha' looks like what you said."

Adjusting the weight on his back, he leaned down further. "Keep watch."

It took longer than he would have liked, but the vehicle came to life with a roar of diesel and a pop of sparks against his fingers. Sticking the burnt digits briefly into his mouth, he crammed himself into the truck with Beth and shut the door with the other. She pushed herself up onto a ledge that ran behind the seat, just wide enough for her to perch on with her hands braced on the headrest and the wall of the cab for balance. Settling into the seat, Daryl pulled his bow over his shoulder and dropped it against the door as he curled his hand around the wheel.

He couldn't hear if the other truck was alive or not, but he could see Glenn in the driver's seat and his hands were moving. Bracing his foot on a boxy pedal, he grabbed on what looked to be a good candidate for the gearshift.

"Hope like hell this's reverse," he muttered.

The truck teetered, shuddering, then heaved back, throwing the both of them forward. He shifted his boot over to the next pedal and pushed hard. The tires spun, throwing up snow, dirt, and finally gravel as they bit into the ground, hunting for traction. Abruptly, it hauled back, the tailgate scrapping against the rock wall behind it. The walkers surged forward and as he slammed on the brake again, he watched Carol and Glenn's truck inch in the opposite directions, a wide gap stretching between the vehicles.

Beth's voice was in his ear, just loud enough to make out over the motor, her hand on his bicep and gripping hard. "Look!"

He whipped his head around in time to see plumes of smoke rising at the opposite end of the quarry.

"Abraham!" he shouted back to her before yanking on the gearshift again, shoving it downwards and spinning the wheel. "Hang on t'somethin'!"

Bangs echoed as the dead fought their way up onto the steep grade of the road. The collide of their bodies against the metal underbelly of the truck reverberated noisily as they stumbled against it, then righted themselves enough to move in the right direction. Quaking, the truck sprung forward. Daryl could see gunmen at the top now wielding rifles and running. He thought he could hear Beth growl behind him and the answering snarl that curled his mouth back was savage. He gunned it, pushing the old thing as hard as it would go to make it up to the top.


	97. Chapter 97

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I apologize for not updating in so long. My dad is still not doing well. He's home from the hospital, but they are likely to put him back in soon. I appreciate the well wishes and your patience with me. 
> 
> I'm not sure when I will post again, but I am hoping that it will be much sooner than this last one. On another note, the next chapter will likely be the end of all of the action chapters, and we'll move on to the aftermath of the attack and wrapping everything up. Geez, I can't believe it's been over a year! Thank you guys, because without y'all, I don't think I could have ever gotten this far.

Beth hissed in a pained breath as her head collided sharply with the back window. Her fingers reflexively twitched where they were braced against the wall of the cab, but she couldn't let go long enough to rub at the tender spot. She'd go flying into the front windshield if she did. Scowling, she turned to look down the length of the slope. The walkers were streaming up the hill behind them, struggling through the snow in droves. The other truck was backing up slowly, working to keep the trailer from sliding off the edge or into the cliff-face on the other side.

She jerked back as the glass she was staring out of cracked.

Suddenly, the truck sounded as though it were being pummeled by hail, metallic pings ricocheting through the cab. She could hear Daryl cursing over the noise and without warning she was being scrunched into the corner as he wrenched hard on the wheel. Wriggling, she maneuvered towards the back of the driver's seat and curled herself around it, wrapping one arm around the back and bracing her weight on a handle welded next to the right window. The massive machine trudged upwards at a steep angle and within seconds her muscles were aching from fighting gravity. His gloves were wrapped so tightly around the wheel that she was distantly surprised she couldn't hear the leather creaking over the rest of the racket.

At the crest of the hill, he yanked and they were swung hard to the left, the tires sliding in the muddy snow. Instinctively, she pressed herself more firmly against the seat. Hoping like hell that he was going to do whatever it was he was going to do _quickly_ , Beth sucked in another breath and forced herself to unwind from around the comfortingly solid leather, reaching behind her to pull out her revolver. He was angling them towards the upper sides of the quarry, bearing down on the small group of men that were desperately trying to hold their position. Their rifles were trained on the truck's cab and as the next wave of lead tore through the window, Daryl ducked and Beth slithered down behind him, covering her head as glass shattered just above her.

"Shit!"

Her mouth had formed the word but she couldn't have been sure if it had been her voice she'd heard or his. Her shoulder bounced back against something hard and edged as the truck lurched, the sound of the engine rising to a roar that rivaled the drumming blood in her ears. Scrambling back up, she clutched at her shoulder, squeezing in some reflexive attempt to stem the flow of pain that inevitably pulsed through her body. It was the right one and she let further curses fly as she struggled to wriggle her way past the bulk of Daryl's torso and the levers and knobs that lined both sides of the cab. She could see flashes of movement out of the window, men scurrying to get out of the way.

Gritting her teeth, she wrenched the door open and dropped down the steps. With one hand, she hung onto the handle and swung out just far enough to get her arm around the side. They were so close to the wood line that the branches were scraping chips of burnt yellow paint and Beth balanced on the balls of her feet to keep under them as she fired two rounds at the backs of the men scrabbling to get out of the way and into cover. A pair of bodies dropped into the snow and she withdrew back inside, pulling the door to just enough to act as a shield.

Daryl's solid arm banded around her middle and yanked her back, another wrapping around her face and pushing her head down, his body curling over hers as another volley of gunfire tore through the windshield. Daryl was steadily cursing in her ear, a stream of "fuck, shit, fuck, goddamit". She'd have echoed him if her tongue hadn't decided to cleave itself to the roof of her mouth. A jab from her elbow made him grunt and he loosened his hold on her enough that she could actually take a breath. The truck was still moving, and without Daryl's hands wrangling with the wheel, it wandered dangerously close to the wall's edge.

With a gear-grinding groan, the truck started to list the first of its tires slipped.

"Bail," Daryl growled at her, relinquishing his grip entirely and she surged out of the truck, slamming the door open again and her hand still tightly around her gun.

She dropped to the ground with a roll, snow and mud smearing wetly across her clothing. Daryl was right behind her as she pushed herself up, the earth vibrating as the truck veered further, gravity pulling another wheel over the side of the quarry. Fighting for traction in the soup, Beth darted into the trees, seeking cover. The deep drifts that had built up under the laden branches made it impossible to move quickly, but their choices weren't exactly varied, considering their only other option was taking their chances with the hundreds of walkers still swarming at the bottom of the wall's drop. She wrapped her free hand around the hilt of her knife, jerking it from the sheath while she shoved the pistol back into its place at the base of her spine. No capacity for range, but in her opinion, that was a decent trade for the assholes roaming in the woods with her to not know where she was at any given moment from the sound of a gunshot.

She dropped into a crouch between two closely grown trees, their trunks curving into a natural hollow. Daryl dropped to the balls of his feet beside her, his shoulder bumping against hers. The ground rumbled and Beth turned her head in time to see the truck slowly tip, sliding down the side of the quarry as its tires fought for traction, tearing into the dirt. The sound of metal rending as the truck slammed against the earthen wall drowned out everything else for the span of several heartbeats. Then another boom as it flipped again, disappearing from view and leaving her ears ringing. Roughly shaking her head to clear them, she turned her attention to scanning the woods around them.

"Huntin' them down's gonna take time we don't have," Daryl's voice reminded her, as if he could feel the tension in her muscles under the bundles of clothing they both wore.

"You really wanna be playin' with 'em out here later?" she asked in a murmur, rubbing her jeans where a bruise was already forming on her knee.

He grunted, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her. Beth met his gaze evenly, lifting her hand from her leg to touch her fingers to the back of his hand - cursory and still inquiring, maybe even measuring. Almost immediately he flipped his palm so that the tips of his fingers loosely curled against the base of hers. She canted her own head, her wild hair waving with the motion as she watched his eyes closely, as closely as he was watching hers. It felt like before, when the words were too heavy for her to speak and it didn't matter because he got it anyway.

"Ain't gonna matter, is it?" The question was soft, but it made his expression hardened.

"Not if Rick manages to get all of 'em down there loose."

With two potential avenues of escape, the walkers were frankly spoiled for choice. Not even having heavy machinery rain down on their rotten heads was likely to slow them down, much less deter them, so the odds of all of them making their way out of the quarry was pretty damn probable. Beth let out a controlled breath. Daryl was right. With a twist of her wrist, she re-sheathed her knife and looked at him, falling silent again as she reversed the angle of her head, jerking her chin in the direction of the wall's sloping curve. Another question and with his head jerking down in an agreeable nod, she had her answer. He moved first and she stayed at his back, sweeping the woods every couple of seconds between watching under her feet. The snow was deep, therefore treacherous, but the missing men demanded just as much of her attention.

They hugged the treeline, unwilling to break what little cover they had to risk a dash in the open. Not that it gave them many more options. They could either retreat further into the strip of woodland or take their chances tumbling down into the quarry with the dead that still milled at its bottom. Beth scowled, ignoring the protesting throb of her sore muscles. If this whole damn crap shoot hadn't been about reclaiming what little security their family had...

She let the thought go as they swept over a rise in the snow, working their way towards the trailer that had been the initial target before the guards had derailed their progress. Originally, they'd planned on using the truck as a battering ram, but that plan had gone south with the vehicle. There wasn't much use in trying to do anything else to the structure. They had weapons, but nothing that could bring down a building, not even a match stick, but it was as good a place as any to clear out and get some perspective. Even from more than fifty yards away, though, it was obviously empty. Anyone holed up would have been poking their guns out like a scene from a Western. The walkers were making frightening progress up the ramps, their sheer numbers pounding the snow flat, easing the trek for their brethren. At this point, it was either run or fight, but no one with the god-given sense of a gnat would just hunker down and pray.

When they reached the closest side, Daryl pressed on the window, sliding it up surprisingly easily. Unlocked. Grateful for small favors, Beth hauled herself up with his hand steadying her at the base of her spine. A quick sweep of the room revealed nothing but empty space. Once Daryl had lifted himself up and inside, it was clear that it was the same throughout the entire trailer. At the far end, Beth shoved the single pane upwards and leaned to the side in order to sight along the line of the quarry's walls. The walkers were already spilling out, shambling up and to the right to swing around the wall's curve, and at their heels were two CATs, their stacks billowing black with the effort of crawling the steep slope. Like cattle, the dead were herded towards the trees. Loud pops signaled resistance from the woods and Beth strained her eyes to see past the dark boughs but the trees had grown too closely.

Daryl's hand closed around her shoulder again.

"Circle 'em?"

Beth shook her head, half-uncurling her fingers to point. "Ain't it better t'let 'em run?" She angled her head to peer up at him. "The walkers'll drive 'em west."

"Ain't a sure thing," he countered.

It never was, but she didn't mention that. It didn't bear repeating.

Daryl watched her quietly for a long moment. Then he spoke again, the taut fix of his features relaxing. "Yer thinkin' they'll be split off from the ones they left in Alexandria, keep 'em cut off from the main group."

"Ain't me jus't thinkin' it," she said, angling her finger to the left. "Rick and Abraham got the same idea."

His hand lifted from her shoulder and when she looked back at him, she caught him rubbing his left arm. He quickly dropped his hand and crowded her to the side so he could get a look, craning his neck to see back over the direction they'd come. "You see Carol or Glenn?"

She made a disagreeable murmur under her breath. "Just the smoke."

It was still puffing up from approximately the same position, but she couldn't be sure that it they were still parked at the bottom of the ramp or if they'd made progress upwards. Based on the thin flow of walkers climbing up, she doubted they'd moved much more than a few feet. Gnawing on her lip, Beth eyed Daryl's broad back with a frown. With a shake of her head, she dispelled the tendril of worry curling around her thoughts and instead leaned forward to focus her attention on scouring the narrow field of sight. Abruptly, the cone of smog jerked, losing its shape only to reform into a swirl of grey and black that ran horizontal instead of vertical.

"They got movin'." Daryl rested the side of his fist against the edge of the window and glanced towards her. "Ain't gonna have an easy time of it without our truck though."

The rest of the conversation remained silent between them. Their options were limited as hell. They couldn't sit here, and on foot they weren't much help at either end of the site. Picking off stragglers was an option, but how many? The trees were thick and they lacked scopes on their weapons. Watching for reinforcements was possible, but they didn't have much that someone at a distance could interpret as a signal. And depending on the numbers that may or may not show up, holding them off long enough for the rest of their people to accomplish what they needed to was unlikely at best. They had only a few boxes of bullets between them, and Daryl's bolts were pitifully finite. They might get lucky, but Beth didn't much like the odds.

Daryl didn't seem to either, his eyes reflecting the train of her thoughts back at her. The way he stood next to her, towering and tense, spoke volumes. Finally, he just asked, "What do ya wanna do?"

Keep you alive, she answered wordlessly. She wanted to go home and curl into his side in their bed and not leave for days. And she wanted just as much to find his bike and ride until they couldn't see anything but stars and highway.

Instead, she reached up and threaded the fingers of her right hand through his dark hair to the back of his head and fisted it there. The change in his demeanor was almost instant, shifting from grim to surprised to something that was warm enough to thaw the solid chunk of ice in her gut. Beth let out a shuddering breath and realized that it was easier now than it was a minute ago. So she let out another, watching his face as her grip loosened and then fell away altogether.

He nodded to her as she made the choice for them. "Roof."


	98. Chapter 98

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between teaching six English courses (two of which I'm subbing for another instructor) and taking care of my dad, I have barely been able to breath for months, but I have finally found a niche of time that I could sit back down and start writing again because I really want to finish this! Thank you guys so much for your patience!

The tin crumpled threateningly under his weight as Daryl belly crawled through the snow, again. Fucking story of his life anymore, it seemed. He might as well have been crossing an expanse of wet tissue paper, that was how solid the damn thing felt. It didn't help that his leg protested every goddamned movement with a hot, agonizing lance of pain. The metal under his knee bent inward, causing him to scramble forward to the far edge of the roof. Beth was close by, slithering up to her elbows just enough that she could see across the quarry.

Not that there was much to see.

The woods flanking their right was dense. If there were reinforcements coming from that direction, they wouldn't know it until the shots fired. What was in front of them didn't offer much information either. Walkers swarmed up the far ramp and spilled out onto the wall. The CATs weren't visible, just thick, steady streams of smoke marking their locations.

"They're never gonna get them back in the pit," Beth said.

Daryl grunted, most of his attention still focused on making his own assessment. "We ain't neither." He shifted enough to pull one arm out and point west. "Most we can do is steer 'em away from home."

It _was_ home, as much as the prison and Hershel's farm had been home. If there was even a snowball's chance in hell of taking Alexandria back, none of them were going to use the walkers to do it. There wouldn't be a goddamned thing left.

Beth nodded and twisted around to look out towards the treeline. "If they've got back-up, I don't think it's comin'." She traced the barrier of limbs and snow through the air with the tip of her finger. "They won't want to fight through that when they can jus-"

"Be smart and regroup somewhere else. Ain't like they know who we are."

"So they won't be tracking us down anytime soon," she finished for him.

Daryl murmured in agreement and held in the relieved heavy breath that tried to fly out of his lungs. One less thing to waste time dicking around with. If anything, the two groups would be focusing on getting their shit together again and hopefully by that time, their own people would either be long gone or driving the rest of 'em out of the safe zone.

"Carol's rig is comin' up."

He angled his head to glance over his shoulder at the steadily approaching rumble behind them. The cab rose above the dead the truck was managing to herd along the wall. Those that weren't shambling away from it were trailing behind, attracted by its noisy motion. It would have been hell trying to get anything living moving with that thing, but for walkers it looked like it was working alright. Daryl gestured to Beth and together they stood up, rust-colored snow fluttering to the ground as they moved. The truck ambled closer and Daryl made the short hop from the top of the trailer to the door of the cab.

Beth followed him, taking his hand and sliding quickly inside the truck. Glenn squeezed over to give her room on the bench seat, his face sallow and set in a tight grimace. He wasn't the only one hurting. Leaving the door open, Daryl yanked on the ancient lever to roll down the window, propping the crossbow at the bottom of the opening. With one foot braced in the interior and the other settled on the wide step, he rocked with the truck. At his back he could feel Beth's fingers threading through the empty belt loops of his jeans, anchoring him more firmly as Carol navigated the rough terrain. Words were being exchanged beside him, but between the engine and the dead, he couldn't hear them. He focused on the wood line instead, keeping an eye on the walkers shuffling ahead of them too. Even though he agreed with Beth and seriously doubted that anyone was coming, he couldn't ignore the instinct. Too much shit had gone wrong in the last two days and with the luck they were running with, he half expected to see a goddamned regiment of tanks bearing down on them at any minute.

Nothing appeared though and Daryl wasn't sure if that made him feel relieved or more on edge. Both, he reckoned.

It was a fight to angle the truck just right on the wall so that the walkers were driven towards the woods without sliding ass first back down into the quarry. Rick and Abraham seemed to be having the same problem, their tires biting shallowly into the frozen ground, sliding haphazardly as they wrestled with the vehicles. The walkers didn't see, much less care. All they were focused on was the sudden appearance of flickering red dots of light that played on the snow under the trees, and the fiery trails of smoke shot into the air by Morgan and a handful of other people. Carol's rig and Rick's small machine met, the grill of the rig nearly touching the CAT's wide shovel, and both immediately killed their engines. The sudden stop and silence of the prey they had originally been trailing, combined with the fascinating display to their left was enough to divert the horde. Moving as one, the corpses shifted course.

In just under a minute, Morgan had his group moving, an assortment of pistols and knives drawn as they darted into the woods. The plan was for them to circle back around once they'd sent the walkers on a goose chase that would take them far enough out to no longer be a threat to Alexandria. That was if they could manage it without running headfirst into a drift-covered gully or any of the bastards they'd run off from the quarry.

If, if, goddamned, fucking if.

Gingerly, Daryl stepped down as the last of the stragglers disappeared into the treeline, keeping the weight of his bad leg as much as possible. His boots crunched as he strode towards Rick as the sheriff clambered up and out of his sturdy little machine.

"Any casualties?" he asked, his crossbow in both hands and pointed to the ground.

"Not so far," Rick said. He tipped his head sideways and back in a quick, jerky motion. "Abraham got a little banged up foolin' around with a patrol."

"Yeah, well, he's gotta make it personal," Carol muttered as she tromped towards them.

Glenn trailed after her with Beth a couple steps behind, her eyes flitting between where he was walking and his actual feet. From the set of her shoulders, he could tell she was millimeters from jumping right next to her brother-in-law and helping him the last few feet. It wouldn't have been appreciated, and she knew that, which was probably the only thing that kept her moving until she was standing next to Daryl. Gently, she leaned over and bumped her shoulder against his arm, her head tipping back with an expression that was pretty close to how she'd been looking at Glenn. He gave her a short nod before returning his gaze to Rick as he spoke again.

"When Morgan gets back around, we'll move."

"Where?" Glenn asked warily, his hand rubbing hard at his side.

Rick didn't have to say it. They all knew, but Daryl figured they all wanted to hear it, confirm it, put it in fucking concrete, whatever, just as long as it got the damn ball rolling.

"Alexandria."

Even expected, the words still carried more weight than he'd figured, maybe more than his crossbow, which felt like it weighed as much as the truck behind them. Beth's arm shifted against his and he knew that if he looked he would see the antsy play of energy on her features. She didn't like it. He couldn't say that he felt any different. Rick damn well knew there wasn't a chance in hell that they'd be able to take the zone back. There wasn't _any thing_ to take back. Risky, stupid, but Daryl kept his mouth shut. He'd grab his brother later.

Rick's gaze was heavy on them, like it had been not even an hour before, measuring and calculating. It was that look that made him realize just how tired he was. His leg was hurting like hell, throbbing in tandem with his pulse. A glance at the faces gathering around them made him believe he wasn't the only one. Without thought, he leaned more heavily on his good leg, bracing gently against Beth. Subtly, her feet moved, her stance widening to support him.

Rick was talking again, but most of it was just arranging troops so he tuned it out, nudged Beth and turned to trudge through the powder-laden slush towards the far end of the pit.

"Reckon they'll be trucks on that end that they didn't take off in," he told her in a low voice. Beth hummed a soft sound that was likely agreeable, a noise that was quiet enough to make him glance at her. "What?"

Her blue eyes were troubled when she met his, her lips red and ragged where she had dragged her teeth over the chapped skin. "I'm not sure, but..." She trailed off.

He hefted his crossbow higher as they walked. "Well, there ain't no jukebox, so-" His mouth twitched as he gave her a side-eyed look. It grew slightly in tandem with the light smirk starting to curve hers. It grew a little wider as the cloudiness left her cornflower blue irises.

"Do you really think we'll be as lucky as this twice?" she asked, sidestepping a puddle of mush that would have swallowed her legs up to the thighs.

"I doubt it," he said bluntly.

She gave him a long, searching look, her breath trailing in the air as she slowly said, "Maybe, but you're still hoping for a little bit."

When he didn't say anything, the smirk was back. He wouldn't tell her, but he liked seeing it.

"Doesn't hurt to have a little faith in things now and again." Her smirk bloomed and he even dared to find a little pride in dredging up something that could make her smile in the middle of a very cold victory.

Even so, he was still surprised when her chilly hands slid around his wrist and then down to his palm and squeezed around it briefly before slipping away again. Cold victory or not, the fact that they'd both survived to be in that moment was damn well worth it. Maybe they could pull one more miracle out of the asses, although it wasn't fucking likely. He sure as hell didn't put much faith in it, but he had faith in her. Maybe that'd give them enough luck to at least come out the other side one more time.


	99. Chapter 99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate the messages and comments of support, y'all. My dad is doing better, but there have been some rough patches since last October. It's been hard and it's been busy, but I'm happy that I can at least update again. As always, thank y'all so much for your love and patience, and I hope you continue to enjoy Feral.

They weren't going to take Alexandria back. There was no way in hell they'd be able to. At best, they could harass, spy a little bit, but Beth really didn't see the point. The walls were down, and like she'd said, their luck had never been that good.

It had taken the rest of the day to comb through what had been left behind at the quarry, and it hadn't been nearly as much as they'd hoped. Among the trash and rubble were a few rifles, some boxes of ammo, a spare bit of clothes here and there, and a little bit of bottled water. Not the greatest haul in the world, but she reckoned it was better than being empty-handed. The trucks with their spare gasoline drums had been worth it, if nothing else.

They had retreated back to the highway, nearly everyone stretched out in the beds of the trucks they'd taken from the quarry with blankets Morgan had pulled from somewhere. They were thin and ratty, but no one was going to complain. No one really expected for the group still in the zone to make a night run to the quarry, but there was always a chance. Better to hunker down out of sight than stay on the road like a line of canned targets on posts. So they'd pulled into the trees as deeply as they could. A careful sweep of cut pine branches had eliminated any trace of tire marks from the highway.

It wasn't as snug as an actual structure would have been, but with the tarp pulled down over the tailgate, it kept most of the wind out. It did nothing to alleviate the drop in temperature as the night wore on, though. Most people bedded down with at least one other person for a little more warmth. Beth had settled at the very edge of the truck, her back against an unforgiving metal strut. It was far enough away from the rest of them that she could keep an eye on everyone and still watch the woods beyond the small ring of trunks. She spread the small blanket she'd been given across her knees, tucking them close to her chest so that she could pull the worn edge up to her neck. Nest made, her eyes drifted to the slim slit in the tarp that allowed her to see out, to where two dim shapes stood huddled together just outside, illuminated in thin moonlight. Their voices drifted, but not loud enough to make out words. She watched them until one disengaged from the other and stomped towards her. With a grunt, Daryl stuck his head and shoulders through the flap, then the rest of him as he pulled himself up.

"You talk him out of it?" she asked softly as the truck creaked.

"Naw," he muttered back. "He still wants t'take a look."

She didn't say that it wouldn't do them any good. Instead, she said, "He might change his mind in the mornin'."

"Maybe." He paused a second before adding, "Carl brought Judith and the others a little while ago."

Beth let out a breath. "Good." She gave him a sidelong glance. "That didn't change his mind either."

"No. Move over."

Quietly, she did as he asked, making room as he sunk down next to her, lifting one arm so that he could slide underneath the tattered blanket. She angled herself sideways, both arms slipping beneath his jacket and around his waist. With one leg hooking over the top of his uninjured one, she managed to just cover the two of them. One of his arms slid around her back to rest across her shoulder while the other hand rested on her forearm. Eyes half-closed, Beth laid her head against his chest, cold leather biting her cheek briefly before it began to warm under her skin.

"You take them painkillers?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"Helpin?"

"Some."

She rubbed her temple into his chest with a soft hum of approval, letting her eyes close completely. It took little more than a couple of minutes before his chin was resting against her hair, centimeters above her scar. Idly, she traced light circles with her thumb against his worn shirt, feeling the dryness of her knuckles stretch with the stinging threat of splitting skin.

"Rick say what he wanted to do when we got there?"

Daryl snorted. "He ain't got a plan. Just wants t'see if there's a chance to make 'em hurt for last night."

His fingers slid from her shoulder around to the back of her head as he spoke, sliding through her hair and gripping tightly. The wind fluttered against the tarp, a cold tendril snaking through the opening and ghosting through the truck bed. It was hard not to shiver and Beth squeezed herself just that much closer in its wake.

Someone shifted, material rustling near the truck's cab. Muted steps thumped hollowly as someone tread towards them. They hunkered down next to them on the other side of Daryl. Another blanket was dropped over them as Carol's voice drifted through the dark.

"Rick still out there?"

"Yeah."

Without another word, she was silently slipping out of the truck. Beth listened to her crunching footsteps move towards the truck parked next to them. Daryl layered the extra blanket over theirs with his free hand, a little more heat that she was grateful was trapped between them. Tipping her head back, she brushed her mouth against the underside of his jaw, the added warmth making her drowsy. His fingers flexed where they were caught in her hair and she was a little surprised when his mouth tilted down to catch hers hard. It was brief, though, and he was pulling away before the contact could deepen. It felt like a reassurance of some kind, for him, maybe for her, but she couldn't be sure unless she asked. Those were words she didn't care to speak, so she tightened her hold around his waist in response and placed her cheek back where it had been against his chest.

"You ain't gonna sleep," she whispered instead.

"Probably not," he admitted.

"Cause yer leg hurts or 'cause you don't want to?"

"Reckon it's a little of both." She felt his beard catch against the top of her head. "Ain't like yer gonna catch forty winks neither."

The thumb of the hand that wasn't in her hair was rasping over her sleeve. They really needed the shuteye. As fatigued as she felt, she knew Daryl had to have been feeling it just as bad. Between the adrenaline dump and the battering their bodies had taken over the last thirty-six hours, it was a damned miracle any of them had still been standing when the dust had cleared. They needed a place to lick their wounds and rebuild more than they needed to reclaim what was going to be a hole in the ground in a few months.

Without the walls, it wasn't sustainable, and she didn't see the two groups working together long enough to actually put them back up. But it was stupid to think that another herd wouldn't come through this way again. Alexandria's accessibility to the highway had always been as much a flaw as an asset. A herd wasn't the only thing that could walk right up to the gate when the roads were clear. If in-fighting or walkers didn't take out the rest of the zone before they got any sort of barriers up, another group would. Of that, Beth felt certain. They had never been the only ones that sent out people to scout. Someone else would find it. Someone else would want it, or what was left of it, or what it represented. The wolves and the sheep would kill themselves over it.

Fine, let 'em. Better to find a place the roads couldn't reach. Better yet, build a place like that. Sounded better than scrabblin' for one that might or might not last them through the next winter. If the cabins in Picksville had been anything to go by, it wouldn't be that hard to start up a small enough settlement to escape notice, especially if they moved far enough into wildlands that asphalt hadn't reached. Hell, that not even dirt roads had reached. That'd be ideal. Hard as hell to actually accomplish, but maybe not as much as she was thinking. Maybe it was just a pipe dream.

_Her daddy's hand looked as worn as the door he rested it against._

_"This old house's bones show through, Bethy. Good, strong bones we can rest on."_

It was nice to think about. Someplace they could breathe again. Alexandria had been that for her family for a long while. The prison had been too. And they'd had to give up both. They'd had to give up the lives they'd known before that. Since the world had changed, it was all they did. Every little bit of luck dried up eventually. It made it hard to have faith in much of anything. Beth wasn't sure how she felt about either concept anymore, except that she tried to keep both in her back pocket with her pistol.

She resisted the urge to shake away the train of thought. She liked 'maybe' about as much as she liked 'why'. And it didn't do much to dwell on either, not when she was this tired. Daryl was right in that she probably wasn't going to get much sleep, but that didn't mean she couldn't give her head a rest and just sit still for a while.

That, in a way, was much easier than anything she'd been mulling over in her head. Daryl smelled like stale smoke and cold, even though he was warm where she pressed against him. Some of the others were snoring behind them, and every now and then a tree cracked under the weight of frozen water. A glance out of the tarp let her know that it was snowing again. Not heavily, but enough that it'd be unlikely to pull the trucks out without some serious effort. That might not be a bad thing. She and Daryl would read the terrain tomorrow, see what they could do then, if anything. If Rick had it in his head to do one thing, it was going to be damn hard to change his mind, but if enough people spoke up-

Tomorrow, she reminded herself. She'd have that to look forward to tomorrow. For a few hours, she could stand to let herself be warm and safe. The fatigue truly slammed into her with that thought and she let her eyes drift shut. Daryl's fingers were combing through her hair when sleep claimed her.


	100. Chapter 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Lord, it's been a little over two years since I started this story, and I am so damned pleased to have finally finished it! Thank you guys so, so much for sticking with 'Feral', and me, for this long. The love that has poured out from the community for this story has continually warmed and amazed me. Truly, y'all are the absolute best readers anyone could ever ask for.
> 
> I may eventually write a sequel for this, but I don't know for certain. I am going to be moving on to new Bethyl material, though, and very likely start seriously writing for my other stories now that I've completed this. I'd love to hear your thoughts on that, and of course on 'Feral'. Once again, thank y'all. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

A sharply cold gust was what roused him. Yawning, Daryl lifted his head and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm, surprised that he'd gotten any sleep. He probably had Beth to thank for that. The woman was a walking heater despite her size.

The thought prompted him to blearily glance down at the swaying wisps of blonde hair. In the strip of pale winter sunlight glimmering through the tarp, the top of her head almost looked white. Her face was burrowed under the blanket, her arms still loosely wrapped around his middle. He nudged her with his knee, shifting under her weight.

"Hey." The word was a sleep-laced growl, and the response she gave was only slightly higher pitched as she pulled away from him with a sullen-looking squint. He jerked his head towards the canvas flap. "C'mon."

Beth stretched beside him, unfolding herself with a rough shove of her hand across her eyes. Daryl got to his feet, his joints popping and he winced at the stiffness in his leg. Yeah, that wasn't going to ease off anytime soon.

The sun reflected off the snow in patches outside of the truck, the shade of the trees sheltering them from the worst of the early morning glare. People were huddled in small groups along the road, shoulders bumping and hands tucked hard against their ribs. Steam billowed up in quick puffs as they spoke, their eyes flickering between the road, their companions, and the trucks.

Rick had one hip resting against one giant tire, arms folded as he watched Abraham and another man dig through the engine. On the other, he balanced his daughter, her fingers wrapped tightly in his hair and in his shirt. They both looked like they hadn't slept much, Judith tiredly tucking her head against Rick's neck.

Daryl greeted the toddler with a crooked smirk. "Lil Asskicker." His gaze slid to burly ex-soldier. "All good?"

"Runs like a scalded dog," Abraham said, lifting his head. "Reckon we'll see 'bout the others."

The other man grunted then turned his head to meet the sheriff's eye. "I'll check 'em over. Any of 'em got major problems, we can strip it for spare parts and gas."

"That'll work. There's bound to be supplies in Alexandria we're going to have to replace when we get there." As he spoke, Rick stood straight. Plucking the little girl from his hip, he placed her in Beth's arms with a kiss to her baby fine hair before striding up the row of vehicles to the next truck. The blonde's eyes widened as her hands automatically steadied Judith's back, letting her snuggle into her chest with a soft noise.

She sent Daryl a silently questioning look, her posture stiff and awkward. He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Yer aright," he murmured near her ear as he moved past her. She looked doubtful, but she kept the kid where she was.

Rick had pushed the hood of the second truck up and Daryl pulled himself up to peer inside.

"How many people are we takin'?" he asked, bracing his weight.

"Four. We want t'get a pretty good idea of what we're lookin' at."

"Anymore than tha' and we're riskin' gettin' spotted," he agreed, running his hand along the fan belt. "Who're ya thinkin'?"

"Maggie and Beth are quick enough. Carol too. Abraham or Sasha'd go too."

Daryl wasn't bothered that he wasn't being considered. With his leg, he wasn't going to be of much use, and it wasn't like the quarry when they needed all hands on deck.

He nodded. "Heath or Aaron would be aright." Rick hummed under his breath as he came around to stand next to him. Daryl glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You goin'?"

"I was plannin' on it. You think I shouldn't?"

Daryl shrugged. "Didn't say tha'. Thought you might be s'all." He wiped his hand on his jeans, meeting his brother's gaze. "What're you hopin' t'see?"

Rick's roughly scrubbed a hand through his curly hair. "We talked about this last night, Daryl."

"And you didn't answer me then, neither." Daryl leaned back against the side of the truck, one foot propped on the tire fender as he dug in his shirt pocket for a loose cigarette. After the first drag, he held it out to Rick, quietly pleased when the other man took it wordlessly.

People milled around them as they traded the smoke back and forth. Most were carrying supplies between the trucks, organizing, talking quietly. Occasionally, they looked over, but no one stopped, either giving the two men space or simply too busy with their own tasks to take the time. It didn't matter much since neither of them had anything to say anyways. Rick's mind was faraway, that much was obvious by the glazed look in his eyes and the absent set of his mouth. The motion of lifting the cigarette then passing it was mechanical and Daryl let him sort out his thoughts, keeping his own to himself for the time being. They'd hashed out a lot the night before, debated back and forth over how much worth Alexandria had to them now, much less what it was going to cost them to try anything.

Rick hadn't come out and said it the previous evening, but it was pretty damn obvious he wanted to take the zone back. Daryl couldn't exactly blame him, and it wasn't like either one of them was unaware of how precious little they could afford in even scouting it out. But Rick hadn't wanted to hear it and Daryl didn't bother spelling it out. He fucking knew, just like he knew that whatever call he made, they'd follow him. Because when it came right down to it, Rick was always going to choose what he thought was best for them.

"Shit," Rick said, flicking the butt to the snowy pavement.

"Mm?"

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, the back of his head thumping against the side of the truck.

"It ain't worth it, is it?"

Daryl shrugged, shifting his weight so that it rested more evenly on his good leg. "Yer call, man."

Rick scowled at him. "Don't start tha' bullshit."

'Ain't startin' nuthin'." Daryl fixed him with a level look. "You say we're goin', we'll go. You say we ain't, we'll start huntin' for somewhere else."

"You really think we're gonna get tha' lucky again?"

He shrugged again. "Ain't likely, but we found Alexandria and the prison and they both worked for a while. Maybe this next one'll be better."

The other man made a clicking sound with his tongue. "What makes ya think it won't get taken too?"

"Quit puttin' fuckin' words in m'mouth, Rick. I ain't said that neither," he snapped, dropping down gingerly to the snow and crunching towards the next truck.

Both of them were quiet for a little while after that, Rick trailing him up the line. It wasn't like nobody else remembered the shit they'd gone through, not two nights ago and sure as hell not a year ago. The memories were etched into his skull, a myriad of fire, smoke and bullets that he still experienced on bad nights. He imagined nearly every one else had it about the same. Pausing in his inspection of the third truck, he looked back down the road to where Beth still stood with Judith.

Her body language was much more relaxed as she gently swayed on her feet, the toddler asleep with the crown of her head beneath Beth's chin. Both of her small hands were curled around Beth's shoulders as the blonde talked with Abraham, a tilt to her mouth that might have been a smirk or a smile. Carol approached them from behind the truck, her slender fingers gently caressing Judith's cheek as she came to stand beside the younger woman. Slighter in height, Beth was dwarfed by the people who flanked her, but she didn't appear threatened. Hands came in close proximity to her and she didn't flinch. People moved behind her but her eyes didn't track them, steady on those she spoke with.

It occurred to him at that moment just how far she had come in so short a time. It was like he was looking at the Beth he'd known in the funeral home, and yet he knew that it was only partly true. There was a sharpness in those cornflower irises that was too keen for the teenage girl he'd carried across the kitchen. She carried a leanness in her features now, an edge that was highlighted by the scars on her face. The roundness of youth had been carved away, but the feral snarl she had come back to him with had faded. She stood somewhere in between now, balanced like the hunter's knife at her hip.

When he turned back to the truck, his thoughts still not entirely on what he was doing with his hands, he caught his brother's eye again. Rick watched him intently for the span of a heartbeat before flicking his gaze towards Beth and his daughter and Daryl saw the tense line of his shoulders give a little beneath his heavy jacket.

"Ain't worth it," Rick said, the words no longer a question. Daryl felt his own tension ease considerably.

"Aright," was all he said in reply.

Rick let out a breath beside him, then reached out and clasped his shoulder. "Grab our people and let's get these trucks movin'. I wanna talk some more about where we're headin', but we shouldn't hang around these parts much longer."

"I got some ideas," Daryl said as he turned towards the other man, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, towards the west. Rick nodded and the two men parted, heading in opposite directions.

As steadily as he could, Daryl walked back towards Beth and the others. He was going to need another dose of painkillers before they all clambered back up into the trucks. Ride was gonna be hell otherwise. Beth's eyes found his immediately and he held them as he got closer. She tipped her head down and he heard her humming softly as the conversation drifted to a stop at his approach.

"Change of plans. Rick's gonna wanna talk with us in a bit 'bout it," he said to the group.

Smoothly, they scattered and he leaned back against the side of the truck. Beth moved to his side, pulling a small plastic packet out of her jeans. Daryl took them with a nod and ripped it open with his teeth.

"Bad?" she asked softly.

"Nah, just don't wanna put up with it on the ride outta here."

No one paid them any mind as she rocked the Lil Asskicker in her arms and Daryl watched them both. He doubted he'd mind much if they did. They wouldn't see what he did. Her expression barely changed, but he could see it, the relief softening her features and the gentle exhale she breathed.

"Aright, Daryl," she said.

Hearing his name in her voice hit him like it always did and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders without thinking much about it. He leaned down and put his nose in her hair, that summer smell still lingering in the strands under the cold and smoke. It made him think that luck probably didn't have a goddamned thing to do with any of it. It sure as hell hadn't mattered if he'd believed in it. Luck or miracles or any of it.

It was just her. How Beth'd managed to stay alive and come back to him had always just been her. She'd pulled herself out of her own graveyard in Atlanta and walked over a hundred miles to get back to him, even if she hadn't known that was what she was doing at the time. She was whole and his and it a fact that not even Merle was willing to argue with him about.

Daryl's fingers wound into her hair and tugged as he pulled his head back. Beth tipped her chin up and he held her there, both of them staring at the other. She was real. She was here. She gave a damn about him. The world was just as shitty today as it had been the day before, but he figured as long as those three things were true, the rest of the world could go fuck itself. The two of them would figure it out.


End file.
